


The Exquisite Loneliness of You

by rookandpawn



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2020-06-25 14:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rookandpawn/pseuds/rookandpawn
Summary: Twelve years ago Tessa Virtue lost everything: her Olympic dream, her health and the man she loved. Two years ago Scott Moir lost his Olympic dream and any hope for the future. Together they might be able to find everything they need.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Walkinrobe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinrobe/gifts).



> This one is a little different than my last story. Much more angsty and not as funny. Don't worry I haven't abandoned The Me Without You, I just couldn't get this story out of my head. 
> 
> For my buddy Walkinrobe, who is the most wonderful and supportive person I've never met in real life.
> 
> Come visit me on Twiiter @rookandpawn1

Tessa has spent so many years wrapping her loneliness around her like a security blanket, that it feels like it’s become a part of her skin, like it might have to be surgically removed from her body. The solitude of her life is comfortable and safe. It’s quiet and it’s comfortable and she feels absolutely no need to change it. Unfortunately for her, Marie, like any good pseudo mother figure seems determined to break her of her comfortable object and make her live in the real world.

“They want me to coach them? I don’t coach. I work behind the scenes,” she explains, even though if there were anyone who would know this piece of information it’s Marie.

“They asked for you specifically. Well, more him, but they are a team.”

They watch the two skaters as they stroke around the ice. The man is a better skater than the woman. Not that the woman isn’t good, she’s very talented, but anyone would pale in comparison to him. He skates like the ice is an extension of his body, as if it exists just for him. He’s breathtaking and she can’t fathom why he would chose to work with her.

“I didn’t think anyone remembered me.”

“My darling, just because you want to erase your existence from history, doesn’t mean everyone else does,” Marie answers with a gentle laugh.

“Why me?”

“They want to win.”

“Then they should work with you.” She's not being effusive, only truthful. Marie and her husband Patrice are the best. Their top team is poised to win the next Olympics and only because of the wonders they worked. “Won’t it be a conflict if we take them on? With the French?”

The man and the woman have moved onto footwork. The woman laughs at something the man says, and her laugh sets him laughing too. Tessa’s heart aches with the remembrance at the sight and she has to look away.

“Plenty of people coach more than one top team. That was their exact situation at their last rink.” That they likely lost the gold medal, because of that situation, goes unsaid between them. “Besides you would be their primary coach. Not Patrice and I.”

“I’ve heard he has a temper.” She searches her knowledge of the team for any reason that she shouldn’t take them on.

“More passion than temper,” Marie pats her hand. “And I think he’s mostly outgrown that.”

The man pulls the woman into a lift and even though she is all grace in beauty, holding her position in a way that Tessa envies, she can’t take her eyes off the man. His spiral is the best she’s ever seen. It takes her breath away and makes the decision for her. 

“I suppose the least I can do is meet them.”

Marie just shakes her head and heads in the direction of the ice. 

“Do they know?” She stops as soon as she hears Tessa’s voice. “Do they know about my face?”

“It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

Tessa nods her head in agreement but they both know she’s lying.

She’ll give Scott Moir credit, he doesn’t flinch when he sees her face. Merely extending his hand and introducing himself. His hand is warm and his handshake solid. His partner on the other hand, winces slightly before she fixes a bright smile on her face.

“I’m Natalie.” The blond is a little ray of sunshine in contrast to her partners dark and slightly brooding looks. She can see why people like them so much. “We’re so excited to meet you!”

“Take it down a notch, Nat. We don’t want to overwhelm her.” Scott’s grin encompasses the whole room. Tessa doesn’t let it suck her in.

“I need to ask…” she looks around for Marie, but the other woman has drifted away. Damn her. “Why me? I’ve never coached before.”

Her job is to watch the skaters, look for the flaws in their technique and analyze how to fix it. She leaves the one on one work to Marie and Patrice.

“We are such big fans of yours! Your program at the ’01 Worlds is one of my favourites,” Natalie gushes. 2001 Worlds was her last competitive skate, and Tessa has to force her mind from the past as the girl continues. “And we know the only way we can win is by thinking outside the box…”

It’s Tessa’s turn to wince. She hates phrases like think outside the box.

“It was your choreography for Johnson and Lapointe,” Scott interrupts.

“How did you know I did that?”

The conversation is suddenly reduced to just the two of them. While Natalie seems like a nice enough girl, she knows her decision will be based on what Scott Moir says next.

“I asked them.” 

“They were supposed to tell people it was Marie.” She didn’t want people to know she was doing choreography. Didn’t want people asking her to choreo for them. She’d only done it for the poorly ranked junior team because something about their lines moved her. Made her sentimental for the past.

“I harassed them until they told me. Phillipe was a vault but eventually Cici cracked,” he explains. She’s not surprised CiCi told her secret, she suspects most women would be helpless in the face of an onslaught of Moir charm.

Still, his answer isn’t enough. Not nearly enough to make her give up her carefully crafted life of solitude.

“I don’t think…” she starts, but he cuts her off. Pulls her away from Natalie, who stays patiently in her spot like a well trained puppy.

“I think you might be the only person who can really understand what it’s like to lose everything and try and get it back again,” he says so only she can hear.

She doesn’t immediately answer. Can’t, because even Marie doesn’t understand this about her.

“Alright then,” she manages finally. “When can we start?”

Tessa knows that scar on her face doesn’t actually hurt anymore. How can it when it’s been more than ten years since it healed. But logic has never stopped the pain from waking her up at four am, chasing pain relievers and sanity.

Her heart is still racing as she finishes her glass of water and places the cup gently in the sink. Thankfully, the details of whatever nightmare woke her are already fading. She might actually be able to get back to sleep. The worst nights are the ones when nightmares force her to remember the past and the memories won’t leave her alone.

She desperately needs to get back to sleep, to be in full possession of her faculties because today she becomes an actual coach. The speed with which Scott and Natalie managed to relocate their lives to Montreal astounds her, and makes her wonder if Marie had promised to take them on as a team if she said no. Barely two weeks have passed since the day she said yes and now.

She’s spent that time obsessively researching her new team. Collins and Moir and their meteoric rise through the ranks of ice dance, their falling out with their previous coach which lead to their disaster at the Olympics, and their near retirement. Those are the facts. The rumours abound about everything else. Their relationship, his temper, her plastic surgery and most interesting to her, his downward spiral after the games and seemingly sudden turn around that led them to her.

An entire day of her life was lost to watching all of their old programs, anything she could find, all the way back to when the were first starting out, when they were both just eleven years old. She doesn’t remember them from that time, but of course she was twenty-three and totally focused on her Olympic journey. She could see how good they were going to be, even when they were that young. People called Scott a prodigy. They weren’t wrong.

The joy on their young faces when they won Junior Worlds makes even her smile. She’s especially impressed by the way the instinctively know where the other is at all times. Sometimes the skate like they’re one person.

They loose that connection in the following years, and she wonders what happened to them. Their skating barely suffers, but she can see that something changed between them. She hasn’t decided if she’ll ask them. Not sure where the boundaries are as a coach. Would she have wanted her coach to invade her privacy in that way? No, but she was a private person, even before she shut down entirely. If she expects a piece of them, will they expect the same in return?

They seem to find their connection again in their later programs. They look untouchable in their lead up to their Olympics. She starts making notes on those programs. All the ways she could improve them, but still revelling at their beauty. She ignores their Olympic free dance. Doesn’t think she can stomach watching that disaster again.

The ache in her legs pulls her back to herself and she realizes that she’s been standing at her sink for half an hour with a half drunk glass of water. Looks like she might as well start her day early and get to the rink before anyone else does. She’s not a morning person, far from it, but she loves being at the rink alone. It’s the only time she’ll take the ice and skate for herself, when no one is watching.

It’s still dark when she arrives an hour early for practice, and the arena looks devoid of life except for a lone car in the parking lot. Intrigued, she makes her way inside the building and finds Scott lazily stroking around the ice, occasionally speeding up until he’s flying across the ice and then stopping suddenly. She watches him for a few minutes, admiring his technique before she clears her throat to let him know she’s there.

“Hey,” he calls, a grin on his face, as he skates over to where she’s standing at the boards. “I didn’t think anyone would be here yet.”

“Where’s your partner?” she asks. She doesn’t owe him an explanation of her comings and goings.

“Nat doesn’t like waking up or being on time for anything.” His fondness for his partner is evident in his voice and again she wonders about the exact nature of their relationship.

“I don’t like it when people are late.” She knows her answer is rude, and she doesn’t mean it to be, but she’s used to dealing with only Marie and Patrice.

“I’ll tell her practice starts fifteen minutes early,” he answer with a nod and a smile.

She doesn’t return his smile because she can’t feel or move the right side of her face and she’s too self conscious about only using the left side. She hasn’t smiled in a very long time, even for Patrice who’s easy going, gentle nature could break the biggest grinch.

She’s both annoyed and pleased that Scott’s at the rink. Pleased because it means he’s as hard a worker as she wants him to be, annoyed because she won’t get in the skate she was planning.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” he interrupts her internal debate, apparently unfazed by her behaviour.

“First I watch you skate. Then I’m going to tell you what you need to fix. Then we’ll see how well you listen. If I’m satisfied that you know how to follow directions then we’ll work on the plan.”

“Plan?”

“For how you’re going to win the Olympics.”

“I like the way you think, T.”

“T?”

“Do you mind?” It’s the first time he’s looked anything but a hundred percent confident. “I like nicknames.”

“Do I have to call you by a nickname?” The idea horrifies her.

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Alright then. Come and find me when Natalie gets here.” She heads into her office still not sure if she’s angry or impressed.

She didn’t expect to, but she likes Scott. Likes the way he listens to everything she says as if his life depends on it. Likes that he’s not afraid to challenge her if he disagrees with what she says. Likes how he puts his whole being into everything he does and the way that he treats his partner with the utmost respect. Values and trusts her opinion as well as his own. Especially likes the way he’s taken to brining her coffee every morning when it’s just the two of them at the rink.

She likes Natalie too. Maybe not as much as Scott, but then Natalie is one of those people you can’t help liking. The kind of person who makes cookies and brings them to work, remembers everybody’s birthday and gives them a card. She’s never in a bad mood and always recognizes when someone else is and does everything she can to make them feel better.

It’s no reflection on them that she wasn’t expecting to like them. Tessa just gave up liking people a long time ago, because liking people leads to letting people into her life and she’d had no interest in expanding her circle beyond the two people it already included. But she might as well like Scott and Natalie because they seem to have invaded her life whether she likes them or not. She wonders if that was Marie’s intention after all.

Yes, the coffee but also the rides home after practice and the mittens Natalie bought her because they just reminded her of Tessa. The way they sit with her at lunch and the text messages from Scott.

The text messages from Scott are the most troubling part. At first they were just questions to clarify moments from training. Work related, therefore acceptable. But then he started to send her things he finds funny, and pictures of happy dogs. She's not sure how he found out that happy dogs are her weakness. Maybe they’re just everyone’s weakness, but no one has ever sent her pictures of them before.

She supposes the pictures and the work questions were fine but lately they’ve just been talking over text. She’s not sure how it started, not sure how it evolved into a conversation and she definitely not sure how the ding of her phone letting her know that she has a message from him, became the highlight of her evenings. They don’t talk about anything personal, it’s not like she has anything personal to talk about, they just talk.

Scott: I was at a coffee shop to day and overheard a woman say to the man she was with “Can I tell you something in complete confidence?”  
Tessa: What was it?  
Scott: They left before I could overhear.  
Tessa: That’s disappointing.  
Scott: I considered following them to find out what it was but realized that might be inappropriate.  
Tessa: You made the right decision.

He never seems put off by her abrupt answers. Never expects this text relationship to extend to the rink, so she guesses it’s alright.

“Do you want to grab some dinner on the way home?” he asks her on a Friday night after a long week of training. They’re making excellent progress, but he came to her very out of shape and is still trying to catch up to Natalie’s level. He looks exhausted, but so happy, like he’s finally in the right place.

“With you and Natalie?” He can’t possibly mean anyone else but it’s such an unexpected invitation that she can’t quite process it.

“I have a date.” Natalie announces and raises her eyebrows suggestively, before heading into the change room.

“So, just you and me, if that’s ok?” he says with a shrug.

“I…No,” she blurts out. He can’t school his features quickly enough to hide the devastation that flits across his face.

“Yeah, right,” he tries for affable but she can hear the hurt in his voice. “Forget I asked.”

She’s always unintentionally hurting people’s feelings. She, made Madison Hubbell cry the day before, when she explained exactly what was wrong with her twizzle technique.

“I don’t…” she grabs his arm to stop him from walking away. It’s the most physical contact she’s every had with him and as soon as he stops she immediately pulls away. “I don’t like to eat in public.”

Because she doesn’t like people to see her face, goes unsaid, but he understands immediately.

“We could do take out? You could come to my place or I could come to yours,” he suggests carefully.

She wants to say no, but she also doesn’t want to disappoint him.

“Alright. You can come to my house.”

She likes her apartment, because it’s small, warm and cluttered with books. It’s probably too small for her really, a studio with only a half wall separating her living area and kitchen from where she sleeps. Her kitchen is the same total disaster as it was when she left it, but she has enough time after Scott drops her off to tidy both it and the bathroom, before he returns freshly showered and with Indian take out in hand.

“Would you like something to drink? I have some red wine and I think some beer.”

“Water is fine,” he says and then after a moment’s hesitation adds, “I’m in recovery.”

“Oh.” She’d heard rumours about his drinking but she didn’t think it was that bad.

“I should have told you,” he says as she gives him a glass of water and they sit down at the table. 

“I’m the last person who’s going to judge someone for not wanting to talk about the past.”

“Is that Tessa Virtue, making a joke?” He fills her plate, before turning his attention to his own.

“Not intentionally.”

Her answer makes him howl.

No one finds her funny. But apparently, Scott is the exception that proves the rule. He’s laughed at almost everything she’s said all evening, whether she meant it to be funny or not. After they finished eating, she expected him to leave, but he helped her wash the dishes and they ended up drifting to the couch to continue their conversation.

“You can have some wine if you want, I’m fine with people drinking in front of me,” he says breaking the not unpleasant silence between them.

“I don’t drink much. Alcohol doesn’t interact well with my anxiety meds.” She’s not sure why she’s telling him. Maybe trading a secret for a secret. He just nods in response. The only good thing about everyone knowing what happened to her, is that she never has to explain it.

“Natalie’s on a date?” she asks to change the subject and to gauge his reaction. She can’t quite figure out their relationship and she refuses to ask.

He nods and checks her expression, “A woman she met at pilates. She’s pretty excited about how bendy she is.” 

She cringes because Natalie is the definition of too much information and it makes her uncomfortable. So much of Tessa’s personality is the result of recent events, but she’s always been uncomfortable around people who share every part of themselves.

“Natalie is gay?”

“Natalie’s open to everyone.” A smile of fondness spreads across his face. She’s inspired by how much he genuinely cares for his partner.

“Even you?” The words are out of her mouth before she has time to consider and she instantly regrets them, but he doesn’t look offended.

“Not me,” he says with a shake of his head and a smile.

“Why not?” She might as well ask, now that they’ve gone down this road. “You’re attractive.”

“Did you just call me attractive?” His smile grows. 

“No. I mean yes, but not to me.” She’s twelve years older than him. She’s practically old enough to be his mother. She shouldn’t notice he’s attractive.

“Well, thanks, I guess.” He has a sneaky smile on his face. She’s not quite sure what it means.

“It’s just you obviously love each other…” she needs to stay on track.

“I love Nat more than anyone in the world.”

“So, why not?”

“We tried once. It just never felt right. Like it was what everyone expected of us but it wasn't what we wanted. So, we went back to being friends.” 

“Thank you for telling me.”

She can guess when they were together and when they went back to being friends just from their skating. She holds her breath waiting for him to ask about Matthew. A secret for a secret, but the question never comes.

“Do you want to watch TV?” she says when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything else. She should want him to leave, would normally be desperate to get rid of someone who’d been in her space for this long. Somehow he feels comfortable there, like he won’t swallow the whole room and leave no space for her. “There’s probably a game on.”

“Do you really want to watch hockey?” He raises an eyebrow at her.

“No, but I assumed you would.” He certainly talks about hockey a lot.

“Why don’t we watch something we can both agree on.”

They settle on a rerun of “When Harry Met Sally” and watch in silence until they both start nodding off.

“I should go,” he says, his sleepy eyes mirroring her own. “Getting up after a late night isn’t as easy at twenty-seven as it was at nineteen.”

“I know the feeling.” She leads him to the door.

“I look at the the kids at the rink and I just feel so old.”

“If you’ve old then I must be positively ancient.” He’s still in his twenties, he can’t possibly understand old.

“You’re the opposite of ancient.” He shakes his head at her.

“I’m going to be forty soon.” She reminds both of them.

“I don’t believe it.” He puts his hand on her shoulder and lets it linger there. She tries not to let the sensation of being touched overwhelm her. “Thank you for tonight.”

“It was good to get to know you better,” she says and he releases her shoulder and moves to take her hand. She jerks away before he can. She can’t possibly hold the hand of another man. Matthew was the only one who earned that privilege. “For our coach-student relationship.”

Again a reminder for both of them.

“For our professional relationship,” he agrees after a moment. And with a nod, he leaves.

She catches him looking at her. Of course he looks at her. She’s his coach. He has to look at her. He’s an excellent student and it turns to, she’s a pretty decent coach.

But she catches him times when he shouldn’t be looking at her. When he should be looking at Natalie, when he’s busy talking with his friends, when she didn’t know he even knew she was in the room. And if she’s catching him looking at her does this mean that she’s spending too much time looking at him.

It’s ridiculous to think that it’s even a problem. He’s an attractive man and she’s still a woman, even if she has silenced her libido for almost fifteen years. She can admire an attractive man, maybe even have a small crush on him. He’s really the first man he’s spent any real time with in so long. It’s only natural. Besides he can’t possibly be attracted to her. She’s too old, too disfigured, too closed off. So it doesn’t even matter.

They’re both at the rink late one night. They’re trying to figure out why he keeps catching an edge when he’s about to go into a rotational lift, and they’re not getting anywhere. Marie and Patrice left an hour before, with a shrug and a promise that she would lock up. Natalie fifteen minutes before, for her third date with her pilates friend, a record for her according to Scott.

Scott blames himself for the problem, she’s sure it’s something in the turn she choreographed and they’re at a standstill. He takes a break and skates in lazy circles around the ice. She’s noticed that he needs to be in motion when he’s thinking, but he always stands still when she or Natalie speak. So she lets him process and wishes she could pull on her skates and work through it with him. But her legs already ache from standing and she doesn’t skate in front of other people.

Instead she stands just off the ice and runs through the choreography on land. First, Natalie’s part and then his. Three times, she tries it, before she’s sure it is her choreography and how to fix it. When he looks up he’s staring at her. She can’t deny what she sees there, pure desire and longing. That look knocks everything in her loose and she lets out a gasp from the pain of it.

“Are you alright?” he’s at the boards beside her in two quick strokes.

“My legs are sore.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either.

“Why don’t we call it a night. I’ll drive you home.”

She’s about to argue and say she can walk, but she really isn’t in any shape to do so. She accepts with a nod. They ride to her apartment in silence. Lately, she’s been inviting him up after practice, where they share some tea and debrief the day, but she absolutely cannot be alone with him right now. He seems to sense her discomfort, and pulls up to the front door instead of into a parking spot.

“Thank you for the ride.” she says, her hand already on the door handle.

“You’re an breathtaking dancer,” he answers quietly.

She can’t answer, can’t possibly. She just flees the car for the safety of her cluttered apartment and her books. Try as she might, she can’t settle once she’s there. Books don’t hold her interest, and the TV reminds her of him. Eventually, she decides to go to bed early, but once there can’t get to sleep. It doesn’t take her long to know what the problem is, to remember the feeling of being so pent up you feel like you’re about to fly out of your skin. 

As she slips her hand into her underwear, she tries to remember the last time she touched herself and finds no answer. She tries to think of Matthew, of his kind face and the way he felt under her hands, but when she cums, all she can see is Scott’s face.

Marie and her have never argued before. She supposes that has more to do with the fact that she asks for very little and Marie demands almost nothing in return, than by any great restraint on either their parts. But the gloves come off when Tessa refuses to sit with Natalie and Scott in the Kiss and Cry at their first competition together.

“You can’t very well expect them to sit by themselves!” Marie barks at her and it feels like the arena stops. The Frenchwoman never yells, so this is a sight to behold. She turns and glares at the other skaters, immediately sending everyone back to work.

“You can sit with them,” Tessa shoots back. Scott and Natalie hover just on the outer edges of her peripheral vision, and she can sense how uncomfortable they are.

“I’m not their coach.” Marie is quiet but seething.

“I’m not going if I have to be on TV.” She knows it’s vain and stupid, but she just can’t do it.

“Is this about your face?” Marie’s expression softens a little.

“If I’m there. The story will be about me and not Natalie and Scott’s comeback,” she reasons. No one really knows they’ve been working with Tessa anyway. The public assumed they were with Marie when they joined Gadbois.

“Your scar is barely noticeable, cherie. No will even care.” 

“It takes up half my fucking face!” she explodes. She’s so tired of people telling her that. Like she doesn’t look in the mirror and she exactly how bad it is every single morning. “It is not barely noticeable!”

Tessa doesn’t bother to check to see if the rink stops as she runs out of the arena as fast as she can, only to end up in the parking lot with no idea what to do next. Eventually, she sits down on a curb and tries to get her wild breathing under control. She hasn’t been there long when Scott comes out and sits down beside her. He must have only taken the time to remove his skates before he came after her.

“Are you here to tell me it’s no big deal too?” she demands when he fails to speak.

He takes a deep breath before he speaks. 

“I’m not going to lie to you. Your scar is very noticeable, and I was shocked the first time I saw you.” His confession hits her like a punch to the gut, but she appreciates that he’s one of the few people who’s honest with her. “And people are going to notice and they are going to say things. Some kind and I’m sure some awful.”

“I’m not going on camera.”

“And if you don’t want to do that, then Nat and I will respect that, we’ll convince Marie to sit with us, or maybe Patch. Hell we’ll sit by ourselves if we have to.” He laughs at the idea, and the scandal it would cause. “But we want you there because we want the world to know that we’re your team. That we wouldn’t be the team we are today if it weren’t for you. T., you’re so much more than your scar or your tragedy and we just want the world to know it.”

She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to argue with his kindness. 

“And I think you should know that when Marie says it’s not that noticeable she means it. Because none of us really notice it anymore. It’s just a part of you, and it’s just as beautiful as the rest of you.”

He squeezes his shoulder and she lets him. Fights back the tears she feels forming. She will not let him see her cry. She still doesn’t know what to do, when he finally lets go of her shoulder and heads back into the arena, giving her the space she needs.

She can feels the eyes on her as she walks through the arena on the day of their short dance. Can hear the whispers that follow her everywhere she goes. She hasn’t been to a competition in a long time, usually analyzes them from the comfort of home after they’ve taken place. It’s been like this everywhere she’s gone for the past two days, whispers and stares, both for her and Scott and Natalie. All three of them are a hot topic of gossip.

But they’re also ready for the short dance. She already knows they’re going to win by a landslide. Scott smiles as he comes out of the dressing room just before their warm up group and finds her waiting for him there.

“You look beautiful,” he says and rests his hand on her lower back. He s never dared touch her there before and it takes her breath away. She appreciates the compliment and that he noticed that she took special care with her appearance. She borrowed one of Marie’s high fashion coats, but on her best pair of heels from before, even applied on some eyes shadow and mascara. “You wore your hair up.”

She’s taken to wearing her hair down in the last few years in an effort to hide her face, of course he would notice that she didn’t today.

“If they’re going to look, might as well make it easy for them.”

“Does this mean you’re going to sit in the kiss and cry with us?” The excited look on his face kills her.

“You’re my skaters and I’m your coach. Of course I’m going to sit with you.” She hopes her confident voice covers for her shaking hands.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers and runs hand up her back to squeeze her shoulder.

And she knows that despite her best efforts to stay hidden, Scott Moir has found her.


	2. Two

They almost make it to the end of the press conference, and she thinks she’s safe hiding in the back of the room, when the question comes.

  
“This one is for Scott and Natalie,” a reporter with an American accent says. Her skaters are flush with pride and excitement having won both the short dance and free skate easily. They’re also in their bubble when all they seem to be aware of is each other. The raise and lower their water glasses in unison, and then smile at each other. The whole room seems to engage in a collective sigh, and she understands why everyone is so fascinated by them.

  
“Sure thing,” Scott answers and gives the room his most devastating smile. Half the room sighs again.

  
“You recently took on Tessa Virtue as your coach. Considering your goal is to win the next Olympics do you think it’s wise to invest your future in someone so inexperienced and who’s basically been in hiding for most of your competitive career?”

  
She ducks behind a nearby post as most of the assembled scan the room for her.

  
Anger, briefly flits across Scott’s face and she’s sure the only two people who notice are her and Nat, because the disarming smile is back in place immediately.

  
“I think there’s two things that needed to be addressed here, Ken.” Scott drawls the reports first name and stares him down. “First Tess has been working behind the scenes at Gadbois for a long time and Nat and I feel honoured that she would take a chance on us as her first hands on team. The depth of her knowledge about the sport, her technical expertise and the fact that as her only team we have her full attention, is something I think everyone at this competition would be envious of.”

  
The second and third place finishers nod in agreement and everyone laughs.

  
“And it wouldn’t be fair to characterize the situation as us taking on Tess, when really she was the one taking on a washed up and out of shape team, and by washed up and out of shape team, I mean me, because Nat has never been either of those things.”  
Nat beams at him, and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

  
“He wasn’t that out of shape,” she informs the press.

  
“Nat lies,” he kisses her hand before continuing. “We’re honoured Tessa would even consider taking us on as team, and as you can see the results speak for themselves.”

  
He lifts up the flimsy gold medal hanging around his neck and the panel nods in agreement.

  
“And as for her “disappearance”, I think we can all agree that she was entitled to that time and that we should all respect her privacy in regards to the past, from this moment forward.”

  
He raises his eyebrow at the reporter, who slinks back into his chair, face red with embarrassment.

  
“Any other questions?” Nat asks cheerfully. And the subject of Tessa Virtue is completely forgotten. By everyone but Scott though, who finds her hiding place, makes eye contact with her and winks.

She finds Scott and Nat arguing in the lobby of the hotel after the press conference. It’s such a rare sight to see the two disagree on anything that she watches them stunned for a moment. She’s about to sneak away to her room when she realizes that it might be her job to help them sort things out.

  
“Everything alright?” she calls out before joining them.

  
“Nat doesn’t think I should go to the banquet,” Scott answers. She’d forgotten about the after competition party and now notices that both of them are dressed up for the occasion.

  
“It’s just,” she lowers her voice so no one can over hear the conversation. “You haven’t been around that kind of temptation yet.”

  
“Look, I get why you’re worried…”

  
“Not worried, just cautious…”

  
“Which is fair, but drinking is the last thing on my mind…” The confidence in his voice does nothing to ease the concern in hers.

  
“But the sober councillor said you need to be careful of…”

  
“Triggering situations…”

  
They do this a lot, speak in half sentences that make it difficult to follow their conversation. She's used to it by now, and lets them be.

  
“But I have to learn how to deal with it eventually.” He takes both her hands in his. “Plus you’ll be there and if I feel tempted in any way, I’ll just leave. Nat, I’m in this all the way. I’m not going to mess it up.”

  
“Together,” she concedes.

  
“Together,” he agrees.

  
They seem to have forgotten she’s there and it seems rude to just walk away so instead she says, “Well, I’m glad I could be here to resolve this for you.”

  
They both burst out laughing and whatever tension that existed is gone.

  
“T. did you just make a joke on purpose?”

  
“Of course not,” she answers, and he laughs again.

  
“Are you coming to the party?” Nat asks, grabbing Tessa’s arm in excitement. “You really should come!”

  
“I’d rather not.” The idea is horrifying. Being surrounded by all of those people sounds like torture.

  
“It’s going to be so much fun.” Nat really means it, because to her life is so much fun and if it isn’t she finds a way to make it so. She loves this about Nat, but also finds it exhausting.

  
“Leave her be,” Scott answers and pushes Nat towards the ballroom, where it sounds like the party is in full swing already. She gives Tessa a wave before happily skipping away.

  
“Thank you,” she answers. He gives her a wink before he follows after his partner.

  
She knows he’s headed in the right direction, to the right place, with the right person, but she can’t help but feel a little disappointed even so.

Her book is both riveting and like being in the company of a good friend, so she shocked when there’s a knock at her door and she realizes two and a half hours have passed. She’s even more surprised when she looks through the peephole and finds Scott on the other side.

  
“Are you alright?” she demands, flinging open the door, her heart pounding in panic.

  
“Yeah, why?” He looks totally confused and completely sober.

  
“I thought…” she doesn’t want to finish and have him think she doesn't trust him.

  
“That I fell off the wagon?” He shakes his head and smiles. “Not that she doesn’t have every right to, but Nat worries too much. Can I come in?”

  
“Ummm.” She wants to let him in, but she just realized that she’s in her pyjamas and her arms and legs are uncovered.

  
“I brought cake,” he shows the piece of cake he’s been hiding behind his back. It’s chocolate, her favourite.

  
“Could I just change my clothes first,” she can hear the panic in her voice, hates that it’s there.

  
“Don’t feel like you have to change for me.”

  
“I…just.. my scars aren’t covered,” she manages. Her arms and especially her legs are littered with ugly scars that are still horrible even after all this time.

  
“If you want to change, that’s fine, but I don’t mind,” he answers carefully, still holding the cake out like a gift.

  
“If you could just give me a minute.”

  
He nods and she doesn’t have time to think about the disappointed look on his face as she scrambles to change into leggings and a long sleeve shirt. He’s smiling when she opens the door and presents the cake with a flourish.

  
Luckily, there’s a small table and two chairs in her room so they don’t have to figure out sitting on the bed. Once they’re seated she’s about to eat her cake with her hands, when he pulls a fork out of his shirt pocket with a smirk.

  
“I would have eaten it with my hands,” she says through a mouthful.

  
“I have no doubt.”

  
He watches her finish the cake without further comment.

  
“Do you have any hidden milk?”

  
“Next time.”

  
If she could, she would smile for him.

  
“So, you just left the party to bring me cake?” She considers licking the plate clean.

  
“I wasn’t tempted, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  
“I was, a little.” There’s no point in lying to him. He saw her face when she opened the door.

  
“That’s why I don’t want people to know. I hate that people think I’m weak,” He says and runs his hands through his hair, destroying the artfully arranged curls he obviously spent time on. His eyes are tired and sad. It’s the most vulnerable she’s ever seen him, and it makes her heart ache.

  
“Having an addiction doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human” she says a little too loudly. “And overcoming one is something you should be proud of.”

  
She’s instantly embarrassed about her outburst.

  
“Do you want to watch TV?” she asks as she scrambles to find the remote.

  
“Hey, T,” he follows her across the room and places his hand on her shoulder. The physical connection scares her, but it also immediately calms her anxiety.

  
“Yes.”

  
“I needed to hear that.”

  
“Ok.”

  
“Ok.”

  
He rubs small circles on her shoulder as he talks, “I left the party because everyone kept bringing me drinks and expecting me to be the life of the party and I didn’t want to have twenty-three conversations about my recovery, you know.”

  
“I do.”

  
“Plus I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but drunk people are assholes.”

  
“I have.” She was never a drinker, but she remembers what those parties were like. A bunch of skaters blowing off steam, enjoying one night of indulgence before they had to return to serious training.

  
“So, I thought I’d come hang out with my friend who might understand how I’m feeling, and that if I brought her cake she might let me in.”

  
“The cake was the right move.” She’ll ignore the friends comment, supposes that it’s alright if they’re friends.

  
“You said something about watching TV?” He lets his hand run down her arm, stopping shy of her hand, but gently wiping his thumb across her wrist, once, twice, three times, before pulling away.

  
He plucks the remote off the dresser, before settling on to the bed. She hesitates, but surely two fully clothed adults can sit on a bed together and watch television. It doesn’t have to mean anything, she reasons as she sits down beside him.

_It was Matthew’s idea to go to the capital. She wanted to stay at the beach, exhausted from competition. He insisted that vacations had to be at least twenty percent sight seeing, fifty percent beach and lounging and thirty percent sex. While they had more than filled their sex quota they were completely behind on fulfilling their sight seeing requirements. Because she loved Matthew and his crazy ideas more than anyone in the world she changed out of her bikini and agreed to a day of sightseeing._

  
_Once they were in the the capital, with it’s pristine buildings and gorgeous palm trees, she has to admit she’s glad they came. Matthew insists that he needs to get a picture of her in front of a cotton candy pink building inexplicably flying a Canadian flag. She’s just about to ask him where they should go for lunch, when a noise fills all the space around her and the ground heaves. She grabs for Matthew, panic overwhelming her. Is this an earthquake? No, she realizes, an exposition. But doesn’t have time for any other thought. The sound is ringing in her ears, and she’s on the ground. Matthew on top of her, and then there’s nothing but searing pain…_

She wakes up gasping and clawing at the bedsheets. As, it does every time she has the dream, the memory, she’s not sure what to call it anymore. It takes her a moment to remember where she is, that’s she’s safe. That she’s alone, and Matthew is gone.

  
Except this time she’s not alone. Scott is in the bed beside her. Quiet as he sits up beside her and carefully lays a hand on her shoulder. As her senses return, she realizes the room is dark and the TV is on. They must have fallen asleep watching it.

  
“Sorry.” She doesn’t know what else to say. Wants to get up and get some water, but also doesn’t want to move way from his hand on her shoulder.

  
“Are you ok?”

  
“I.. I don’t know.” She should have said she was fine. It’s easier for everyone when she’s fine.

  
“Could I..” he hesitates, rubs her shoulder, and breathes with her. “Can I hold you.”

  
It takes her a long time to answer. And he waits. Just rubs her shoulder, breathes with her and waits. In the end the waiting is what makes the decision for her.

  
“Please.”

  
He lets her take the lead, and they lay down together. Her on her side, with his arm under her head and his body pressed up behind her. She lets herself breath in the smell of him, whatever cologne he wears. It’s so reassuringly Scott, so different from Matthew, the last man to hold her like this.

  
“Nightmare?” he asks after they lay in silence for awhile. “Do you get them often?”

  
“Not as much as I used to.”

  
Right after she was in too much of a drug induced haze to even understand what happened, let alone dream about it. Eventually, when they weaned her off the pain killers and sent her home alone, she’d dream it every night and relive it everyday.

  
“Can I do anything?” he asks.

  
“This is good.” And it is. She feels safe, far away from the past. “Could you tell me a story?”

  
He chuckles and the way he laugh rumbles in his chest, into her back and through her body.

  
“A made up story or a true story?”

  
“A true story, but a nice one.”

  
“Hmmm,” he considers. His free hand finds her hair and he hesitates until she nods and then he gently plays with the strands. “When I was four Danny and Charlie convinced me I was a girl, because they were pissed off that I wasn’t a little sister. They told me mom and dad had been lying to me and that my real name was Annabelle. They gave me one of my cousin Cara’s dresses and I wore it for the rest of the day. They even put my hair in pigtails. There might have been lipstick involved.”

  
She giggles at the picture of four year old Scott. It’s such a foreign sound.

  
“My mom was so mad when she came home. Made my brothers do the dishes and mow the lawn. But I didn’t mind.”

  
“No?”

  
“I figure it’s why I’m so in touch with my feminine side.”

  
She giggles again, suspects she might be smiling, and is glad that he can’t see her face.

  
“You know what it’s like. Don’t you have a brother?”

  
His hand is so tangled in her hair that she’s not sure where it starts and her hair ends.

  
“I have two. And a sister.” She doesn’t really understand, though. Her brothers are both a lot older than her. They weren’t close growing up and they both live far away.

  
“Are you close.”

  
“No.” Jordan comes for a visit once a year and it’s always awkward.

  
“I hate how alone you are.” He runs his hand down her spine, resting it on her lower back.

  
“You can’t fix me, Scott.”

  
“I don’t think you’re broken,” he answers.

  
“Tell me another story,” she says to distract him. The truth is, she is broken, but she’s not sure she wants him to know that yet.

  
“How about the story of how we adopted a stray dog that turned out not to be a dog..” he says and she settles in a little closer to him. Eventually falling asleep to the sound of his voice in her ear.

Nat is just coming out of her room when she lets Scott out of hers in the morning. She thought when they arrived that it was great having her skaters across the hall, terribly convenient. Now she wishes they’d stayed on separate floors, if not entirely different hotels. Scott just nods at Nat, gives Tessa’s shoulder a squeeze and disappears into his room.

  
“It’s not…” she starts because she knows how bad it looks.

  
“Just don’t hurt him,” she answers. There’s a determination around her mouth that she’s never seen before but recognizes instantly. “I don’t think he could take it.”

  
“We’re just…” Coach and student? It goes far beyond that. “Friends.”

  
“I don’t think you could take it either.” Nat has the kindest smiles and the saddest eyes as she ducks back into her room and leaves Tessa standing in the hall.

  
She knows the right thing to do is distance herself from him before things go any further. She’s just not sure she’s strong enough to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise a new chapter of Me Without You is coming soon


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Walkinrobe for being a first reader, editor, cheerleader and all around good egg.
> 
> And always to my squad The OLC

Tessa has never intended to live anywhere but her tiny apartment. It’s small and crowed, but it makes her feel safe, so there’s no reason to change anything. But there is a house that she walks by everyday. And everyday she thinks, if I could live anywhere…

It’s a tiny house, maybe only two bedrooms if she can judge by the outside, and looks like it needs a bit of sprucing up, but there’s something about it that says home to her. Maybe it’s the yellow paint or the bright blue door. Maybe it’s the front porch, which wraps around the front of the house and seems like the perfect place to sit with a coffee and a book. Maybe it’s the the tiny front yard behind a low picket fence, filled to bursting with wild flowers and a giant oak tree. Whatever it is, it calls to Tessa, and everyday she stops to enjoy it before continuing her journey home.

She’s always wondered what it’s like inside, but never once in the nearly ten years she’s been walking past it has she ever had a glimpse inside, but she imagines that the people who live there must truly love the house and each other.

Leading into fall, Scott had been her chauffeur on enough occasions that she was staring to miss her little house. And since the return from competition, she’s been trying to find the distance between them again. So the best solution to both problems is to walk home alone and admire her little house.

She almost doesn’t notice the for sale sign out front she’s so busy checking any significant changes, but when she does, she almost has to sit down from the surprise. And when she notices the open house sign scheduled in two days, she can’t help but think it was fate that made her decide to walk past it.

Of course, she’s not actually going to buy the house. She just wants to see inside.

But just in case, she finds the listing on line, does some quick affordability calculates and pre-qualifies for a mortgage. Not that she’s going to buy that house, she’s just being a responsible adult and considering the possibility of investing in real estate in the future.

“There’s this house…” she says to Scott, just as practice is coming to a close on Friday. She wants to someone to come with her to see it, but Marie will just tell her to buy it because she’ll see it as progress, and she doesn’t have any other friends. So even though she promised herself she was going to go back to a professional relationship with Scott, she supposes looking at a house she has no intention of buying isn’t crossing any boundaries.

“Ok.” He looks confused. Rightfully, since they were talking about step sequences moments before.

“There’s this house that I like and it’s for sale and I want to go see it…”

“T! You’re going to buy a house? That’s awesome.” He’s so genuinely happy for her that it almost hurts to look at him. 

‘I’m not going to buy it, I just want to see it. And I was wondering if you would come with me to look at it.”

“Sure, but why?”

“I need an objective opinion.” 

“You need someone to give you an objective opinion on a house you don’t plan on buying?”

“Yes.” When he puts it like that it sounds stupid. “Never mind.”

“I’d love to come.” He grabs her elbow to stop her from leaving, and lets it linger there for a moment. “I was just trying to understand the parameters.”

“Alright. The open house starts at two o’clock, so pick me up at one forty-five so we can be the first ones there.”

“Got it.” He salutes her. “Do you want a ride home?”

“That’s alright, I want to walk home and see my…the house.” 

His laugh follows him to the change room.

Scott is five minutes early to pick her up. Which is good, because if he was even a minute late, she would have started walking.  
“You seem nervous,” he says after they exchange greetings. 

“I’m not nervous.” She says and stills her bouncing leg. “I’m just, what if it isn’t what I imagined? What if it isn’t as nice on the outside?”

“That’s an awful lot to worry about for a house you aren’t going to buy.”

“You don’t understand.” She crosses her arms across her chest and pouts like a child.

“I do. I just think you’re cute when you’re mad.”

She sticks to her tongue at him and tries to ignore the thrill she gets at being called cute.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks when they’ve stopped at a traffic light.

“If you have to.”

He just laughs at her. Her leg is back to jiggling because this red light is taking forever and she doesn’t want to miss the open house.

“Settle down.” he stops her leg and immediately puts his hand back on the steering wheel. “We’re five minutes away, which is still going to get us there five minutes before the open house starts.”

“You had a question.” She answers when the light turns green.

“You don’t have to answer, but why don’t you drive?”

She considers not answering, but there’s no real reason he shouldn't know.

“Lost the sight in my right eye in the bombing.” She stops short. She’s not sure she’s ever said the word bombing out loud. It feels strange in her mouth and it sits between them for a moment. Something like relief floods through her system. “I can drive, I mean legally, I just don’t feel comfortable doing it.”

“That makes sense.”

One of the things she likes most about him, is that he just accepts her answers. Doesn’t try to change her mind, doesn’t try to tell her everything’s going to be ok. Just listens.

“We’re here. Is that it?” When she nods, he gives her a giant smile. “I can see why you like it.”

As promised, they are five minutes early, but the open house sign is already out and the the front door is open, so they decide to head in. Her hand shakes a little as she opens the car door, but she manages to calm herself as they approach the house. The real estate agent greets them at the door, makes them sign in and tells them to go ahead and look around the empty house at their own pace. 

She takes one step into the main room of the house and she’s in love. It’s almost as if someone took all of the air out of her lungs and replaced it with helium. She’s floating as she moves about the space. The house is tiny, just as she suspected, but there’s more than enough space for her. The living room, dining room and kitchen are one open space and sun streams in through all the windows. It’s bright, and cheery even without any artificial light. She can see her couch up against the lilac wall across from the fire place. Imagines herself sitting at the bench by the big bay window. Knows just where she’ll put all her dishes in the older but still perfectly functional kitchen.

The whole house is only one floor, but there are two bedrooms and one decent sized bathroom, and everywhere she looks, colours. Periwinkle blues, and buttercup yellows in the kitchen. Sage green in the bedroom she’d use and a strangely appealing burnt orange in the second bedroom, which she could use for an office or maybe a guest bedroom so Jordan doesn’t have to sleep on the couch anymore.

She used to hate colour. The apartment she shared with Matthew was all white and chrome, and that was perfect for them. But this house, this house is perfect for this her.

“Oh,” she breathes at the only other person looking at the house an older woman with a kind smile. The bathroom has a old claw foot tub. It needs refinishing but it’s so perfect that it makes her weak. “It’s perfect.”

“You shouldn’t say that, dear.” The older woman advises with a smile. “They’ll jack up the price if they know you’re interested.”

“But it is. Perfect.”

“It needs a lot of work.” The woman counters.

“But that’s part of what makes it perfect.” She can feel tears welling in her eyes, and for once she lets them come.

“T?” Scott calls from the entryway, where he’s stayed the whole time she’s been there. “You ok?”

“Yes.” She feels the left corner of her mouth twitch in an effort to smile, but she abandons her euphoria to force it back down. “I’m just right.”

Several couples arrive, just as she’s finished looking at the tiny back yard, but she’s seen enough to know. Really she’s known since she walked by the house ten years ago.

“Thank you,” she says to the real estate agent as she makes her way to the door.

“Just so you know, there are several interested parties in the house, so if you want to make an offer I wouldn’t wait. Old house like this is just ripe for redevelopment,” he explains with a slick smile. She hates him.

“Tear it down!” She reaches for Scott’s hand and squeezes it without thinking. “You couldn’t possibly.”

“It’s zoned for twice the square footage. You’d be crazy not to.”

Scott squeezes her hand and whispers, “Don’t worry.” before saluting the realtor and pulling her out onto the porch. She already knows what bench she needs, what pillows she’ll put on it.

“What do you think?” she whispers to him. He’s still holding her hand, but here, in this house that has nothing to do with Matthew, that seems permissible.

“Objectively?” he answers and she nods. “It has good bones.”

“It has excellent bones.”

“But maybe the realtor is right. Maybe you should just tear it down.”

“Scott!” she’s horrified until she notices the sneaky smile on his face. “What do you really think?”

“I think you’re going to buy a house.”

They call Marie from the car, and she recommends the realtor she and Patrice used to buy their house, amid the shrieking and tears that accompany Tessa’s announcement. Scott comes with her to the office, since she needs a ride anyway. 

The realtor, a shark of a woman, tells her that they’re taking offers on the house in twenty four hours and that they’re already expecting four other offers, so she needs to put all her cards on the table with her first offer since it’s the only chance she’ll get. After some quick calculations she realizes that the best she can do is five thousand over the asking price. The realtor looks doubtful that will be enough, but writes up the offer anyway. 

Scott takes her out to dinner to celebrate, but she can barely concentrate on her food. And it isn't until the cheque is paid, that she remembers she doesn't like to eat in public. 

All she can think about when he follows her up to her apartment to tries and distract her, is that someone is going to buy her house and tear it down. The idea makes her want to cry and scream at the universe. She just wants this one good thing, is that too much to ask?

He must sense her mood, because he says he'll be back in a bit and returns with snacks and a deck of cards. They play any game they can think of until she can hardly keep her eyes open. After the fourth long blink, he sends her off to bed and leaves. She knows it’s for the best, but she does wish he could stay. It would be nice to have someone around to keep her company on what she’s sure will be a restless night.

She wakes up several times, nervous and sweaty, but for once she’s actually glad her meds effectively knock her out enough, that she can go back to sleep without too much effort. But even with the medicinal help, when she finally wakes up for the day, she’s anxious and bereft, a feeling she hasn’t had in a long time. Without thinking to much about it, she throws a hoodie on over her pjs and hoofs it over to Scott’s townhouse. She’s never been there before, only knows where it is because they backtracked there a couple mornings when he forgot his water bottle or his bag.

“T?” he’s still blurry when he opens the door and clearly has just gotten out of bed if his messy hair, boxers and lack of shirt are any indication. 

“What time is it?” She hadn’t even checked when she left the house. He could company. What was she thinking? “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“It’s ok, come in.” He opens the door all the way and she makes her way past the pile of shoes at the front door, and up the stairs to the main living room, which she isn’t surprised to find is fastidiously tidy. “Just let me grab some clothes.”

She checks her watch after he disappears into his room. Seven twenty-three am on a Sunday. She’s an idiot.

“I didn’t realize it was so early. I should go,” she calls to him but stayed rooted to the spot he left her in. 

“I’m awake. No biggie,” He comes out wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but his hair is still a mess. “My alarm was set for seven-thirty anyway.”

“Why would you get up that early on purpose on a Sunday?”

“I was going to get in a run.” He laughs as he makes his way past her and into the kitchen, stopping to give her shoulder a squeeze on the way.

“Oh, if you have plans, I could just leave.” She still hasn’t moved from her spot in the middle of the room, and she can’t decide if it would be stranger for her to continue standing there or for her to try and move somewhere else.

“How about you stop trying to leave and let me make you breakfast.”

“Ok.” She doesn’t actually want to go home.

He starts to bustle around the kitchen but stops after a moment. “I recommend the easy chair as the most comfortable place to sit.”

“Right,” she gives her legs permission to move and eventually they cooperate and take her to the easy chair.

“You like your eggs poached, right?” He waits for her curt nod before he continues. “So, first we eat and then we find a way to keep your mind off that house for the next twelve house, sound good?”

“If you’re not busy.” 

“I’m never too busy for you, T.” It hits her hard, when she realizes he means it. 

He keeps her busy all day. So busy that she goes long stretches without thinking about the house she already thinks of as hers. They go for a walk that lasts as long as her legs can handle. They burn at the end, but in a good exercise way, not an excruciating painful one. They play endless round of cards, until he invents a game that sees her lose every hand and have to make fart noises as her punishment. She knows that he changes the rules in his favour, but the expression of glee on his face whenever she makes a new fart sound, is enough to make her want to loose forever. 

They find the worst reviewed restaurant on yelp and decide to have lunch there, only to discover it’s been such down by public health officials. Lunch comes from a hot dog stand, after she admits she hasn’t had one since she was a child. Smothered in mustard and fried onions, she wonders why she went so long with out that particular joy in her life.

He lets her pick the movie and they end up seeing a rom com that she thinks is terrible, but makes him cry. She can’t quite understand how that makes her feel, so she throws popcorn at him until he laughs.

It’s the most time she’s spent with one person since Matthew and she should want to run away and hide, but he doesn’t fill every moment with words and she feels almost as if she can be alone in his presence. She's no sure she could have gotten through the time without him.

He’s just about to suggest another activity, when her phone rings with her realtor’s number. She has to take a few steadying breaths before she answers. She’s crying when she hangs up after a short conversation.

“It’s ok,” he says as he takes her hand. “There’s an even better house out there.”

“No,” he voice cracks when she speaks. “I got it. It’s mine.”

He lets out a whoop of joy, grabs her into a hug, lifts her off her feet and spins her around, before placing her back down.

“The realtor said that I wasn’t the highest offer but that the woman who owned the house was there and saw how much I loved it and wanted me to have it,” she explains through her tears. “It’s mine in two weeks.”

“I’m so happy for you.”

“I guess I better start looking for a handyman,” she says, daring to lift the left corner of her mouth, just a little. The right side doesn’t follow.

“I might know someone who can give you a hand.”

Marie is so happy for her that she practically books the moving van. She comes over every evening after work for two weeks to help her pack. Scott joins them almost every night and Tessa does her best to ignore the other woman’s raised eyebrows and knowing grins. Still it’s some of the best nights of her life, as they pack, talk ice dancing, don’t talk ice dancing and joke around. Mostly Scott and Marie joke while she listens. She still hasn’t quite got the hand of joking again.

The nights when Patrice and his and Marie’s daughter Billie Rose join them are her favourites. The little girl brings such joy to the room that even Tessa can feel it. Watching Scott interact with the little girl, answer her million questions and never get tired or annoyed, opens a little crack in her hardened heart.

Even Nat comes to help on moving day, claiming she’s useless when it comes to manual labour, she proves incredibly useful at distracting Billie Rose with hair and make up tips, whenever she gets a little cranky.

They have everything out of the truck and into her new place within and hour and despite the promise of pizza, everyone but Scott has left as early evening arrives.

“What are you thinking?” Scott asks as he comes out of her bathroom holding a power drill. He’d spent most of the day doing minor repairs around the house. His most recent project involved reattaching a loose towel rack.

“Trying to decide if the couch is in the right place.”

“Isn’t that where you imagined it?” He asks after he evaluates the couch’s location.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s probably the right place. Let’s test it,” he says and sits down. After a moment of hesitation she follows him. Once she’s sitting down she’s not sure she wants to get back up again, and as she looks around the room, she realizes that it is the perfect place for her couch.

“I think I need more furniture.” The house, although small, is practically empty, even with every last one of her possessions in it. “I think I’d like to put a bookshelf on either side of the fireplace.

“I could build them for you, if you like,” he offers, almost shyly.

“You could?”

“Well, not right now, but maybe in the off season, if you can wait that long.”

“I can wait.” She knows this house needs something hand made by him over something from Ikea. “I didn’t know you liked to build things.”

“I learned when I was in recovery, helped to have something to channel my energy.” He shrugs and she can’t quite read the expression on his face, so she nods in the hopes he’ll keep going.

He sighs and takes a drink of water, before he continues, “I built a lot of bookshelves and stools when I got out of rehab. It kept me busy until Nat asked me to skate again. I’d probably have become a carpenter if not for her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a carpenter.” She hates that he thinks that.

“Maybe a come down from potential Olympic champion.”

“I don’t think so. Certainly more useful.”

“When you say it, I believe it.” He reaches out and squeezes her hand. 

“I’d like to smile at you.” The words are out of her mouth before she can consider them, consider that he might not understand them. “But I can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“The muscles on the right side are damaged and I can't use them, so I can’t smile.” She doesn't want to look him in the eye. Doesn’t want to see that look of pity everyone gives her. But when she finally checks, he just looks confused.

“What about the other side?”

“It’s fine, but it looks stupid when I try.”

“Would you try, for me?” He asks carefully, quietly.

And in the house that feels like it was always supposed to be hers, and with a man who feels like he was always supposed to be in her life, she can be just a little bit brave. So even though it’s scary and she knows that no matter what he says, it will look stupid, she smiles for him.

He immediately smiles back, and then gently reaches out for her face. She instinctively pulls back, but them lets him. Lets him touch first her left cheek, run his thumb across her upper lip and then softly across her right cheek, ending with her scar. He lingers for a moment on that rough regretful place on her skin, before drawing his hand away.

“There’s nothing stupid about that smile.”

“Thanks.”

She nods, feels a smile tug at her lips again and lets it happen.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank yous have to go out to the magnificent Walkinrobe, who helped me with editing and present brain storming.
> 
> The last present was her idea and it was the best idea of them all.

As November fades into December, Christmas fever envelopes the rink. It’s normally the time that Tessa’s grinchy side takes full force, and she imagines it would again if it weren’t for one person. Natalie Collins might just be the Christmas spirit full embodied in a person. If Santa ever retires, she knows just the girl to take his place.

  
On December first, Nat starts dressing exclusively in red, green and white.

  
“She’s late this year,” Scott explains, with a shrug. “Normally she starts on November 25th.”

  
Nat’s Christmas spirit is so overwhelming that she pulls everyone in the rink along with her. Before Tessa can blink all of the skaters are wearing ugly Christmas sweaters and reindeer antlers, blasting Christmas carols from the sound system and hanging mistletoe in dangerous places. Actually, she suspects the mistletoe might be the work of one skater as she catches Zach Donahue smirking from a corner the third time an unwitting couple has to kiss.

  
She can’t even be mad about it because even she has to admit that it’s fun. It’s nice to see normally hyper competitive skaters relaxed and laughing but still focused. It’s sweet the way the little kids light up at the sight of the Christmas tree and the skaters in a cacophony of red and green. It makes her tiny, broken heart grow at least half a size and the permanent grin on Scott’s face might be responsible for the other half.

  
So pervasive is the Christmas spirit, that she holds it responsible for her decision to attend the annual Christmas party. She’s avoided it for the ten years she’s been at the rink, but one glance at the crestfallen looks on both Nat and Scott’s faces when she tells her she’s not attending is enough to break her streak.

  
She doesn’t bother go home between the end of practice and the start of the party. Nat had begged her to end the session early so she could go home and do her hair and even Scott had ducked out to get ready as soon as she dismissed them. She didn’t see the point. She could brush her hair and change into her dress as easily at the rink as she could at home, and since the party was being held in the big room above the rink, why would she bother to take two trips.

  
If she was being completely honest with herself, she was staying at the rink so she would have to wear the green dress she’d bought specifically in an attempt to be festive for the party. The dress is long sleeved and manages to cover most of her scars, but still shows more of her neck and chest than she’s comfortable with. If she changes at home she’ll likely loose what little courage she’s managed to find and revert to her uniform or black pants and a black turtleneck.

  
She uses her sudden free time to catch up on some paper work and watch some tapes that Marie wants her to take a look at. With twenty minutes to go she changes and brushes her hair but still has fifteen minutes to spare, so she wanders down to the rink where the little ones are having their Christmas party skate.

  
If anything brings her joy these days, it’s watching little children skate. They way the can still find joy is going fast and goofing around with their friends. How every moment doesn’t have to mean something or have an agenda. Watching some as young as three and four just try to stay up right and the pride on their faces when they do. It all makes her think they lost something along the way that they might never recover.

  
She’s just about to head back to her office, she’s cold despite her coat, when she notices a little girl, who can’t be more than six or seven, sitting on one of the benches all by herself and crying. Tessa hesitates because sometimes kids are afraid of her face. She waits to see if anyone else will go see her, but realizes the little girl basically hidden from view of the rink, and decides she might as well take a chance.

  
“Hello,” she calls out tentatively, doesn’t want to startle the little girl who doesn’t notice her approach.

  
“Am I not supposed to be here? I can go?” she says as she tries to wipe away the two fat tears running down her cheeks. She looks at Tessa, lingers for a moment at the scar on her face. Tessa prefers the way children judge her appearance openly, their reaction easy to read. Adults pretend they’re not looking and then try to hide their reaction. Children are generally kinder in their evaluations.

  
“You can be here. Are you alright?”

  
“Yes,” she answers even as her lip trembles and her tears continue.

  
“I’m Tessa. Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  
“I’m Carmen. My mom says not to talk to strangers, but I see you here all the time so you’re probably ok.” Carmen says everything as one big word with no breaths taken.

  
“That’s a nice name,” Tessa says as she sits a respectful distance away. Carmen immediately slides across the bench and shoves her little body into hers. It’s been so long since she had anyone this physically close to her that she immediately stiffens. The little girl doesn't seem to notice or care.

  
“My mom says it’s from a famous Opera but it just sounds like a lot of loud singing to me.” She brightens for a moment and then immediately starts crying again.

  
“Why are you so sad?”

  
“Because it’s cold here, and my brother won’t go home and I’m hungry and my hands hurt from where I fell.”

  
“That’s a lot of problems,” Tessa agrees and Carmen nods in solidarity. “But I think I can solve at least a couple of them.”

  
“Really?” Carmen stops crying and snuggles in closer.

  
“Really. You should be able to go home soon because the skating is almost over so the adults can have their party. And I know that Santa is waiting to give all of the skaters candy canes on the way out.” Patrice had been looking forward to playing Santa all week. “And I happen to know that mittens are the solution to many of life’s problems.”

  
“Mittens?” Carmen looks skeptical but she’s stopped crying.

  
“Mittens. They keep your hands warm, the make it so it doesn’t sting if you fall and they make you smile just by looking at them. In fact I have a pair that are especially magical.” She reaches into her coat pockets and pulls out her favourite pair. The mittens are wool and striped like the rainbow. Inside they’re lined with the softest fleece she’s ever felt. She carefully puts them onto Carmen’s hands and the little girl lights up.

  
“They are magical!” she agrees. Flops them around on her tiny hands and strokes her face with them. “They must be your favourite!”

  
“They are. And now they can be your favourite, on one condition.”

  
“Ok?” Carmen agrees suspiciously.

  
“If you ever see someone sad like you, you have to tell them about the magic of mittens.”

  
“Do I have to give them my mittens?”

  
“Only if you want to.” Tessa laughs she can’t help herself.

  
“I can do that!”

  
The whistle blows, letting the skaters know that it’s time to clear the ice.

  
“You’d better go find your brother.”

  
Carmen nods and starts to scamper off, before turning around and launching herself at Tessa in the biggest hug she’s ever received in her life.

  
“Thank you?’ She whispers and then takes off, Tessa’s mittens flopping at her side as she runs.

  
She decides to just sit quietly on the bench for a minute before attempting the party.

The room is already packed by the time she makes it upstairs and that alone is enough to send her scampering back to her office and home to her nice safe house. But she’s stopped first by Marie’s kind but worried smile, Nat’s enthusiastic waving from across the room and finally by Scott himself, who cuts across the room in three quick strides as soon as he sees her.

  
“You look stunning.” She starts to disagree, but decides to let the compliment just be for once. “That dress makes your eyes go kapow!”

  
“Thanks,” she mumbles and feels her cheeks redden and the blush creep across her chest. Scott is staring at her and she doesn't want to look away, but she can't acknowledge what she sees in his face.

  
Desire.

  
Can’t because it might be reflected in hers.

  
She’s saved by Nat’s arrival. She comes over belting jingle bell rock at the top of her lungs, even though there’s a different song playing over the loudspeaker, and pulling a confused man with her.

  
“Oh. My. God. T! I’ve never seen you in a dress before. Woman, you’ve got curves!!” She yells even though there’s no need. Sometimes she wishes she could live life as completely as Nat does, but is terrified about what might happen if she did.

  
“Nat, take it down by half,” Scott suggests. She loves this about their partnership, the way he helps keep her personality at a socially acceptable level without ever hurting her feelings, and she raises him out of any funk he sinks into.

  
“All I’m saying,” Nat continues, but at half the volume but all of the enthusiasm. “Is that it’s a good thing I’m into men right now, otherwise I might make a play. Oh, speaking of men. This is James. He’s my massage therapist. Hands like a god, if you know what I mean.”

  
Nat winks at them, and then waggles her eyebrows. Scott just laughs and shakes his head but when she looks over at James he had such unjudgemental look on his face as he states at Nat, that she can’t help but like him.

  
“Anyway, this is Tessa our couch but she doesn’t like it when people call her that so T or Tess work best,” James nods at her, is about to say something but Nat barrels on ahead. “And this is Scott.”

  
“You’re very important to her,” James says as the two men shake hands. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  
“Anyway, Let’s dance,” Nat announces and pulls James away. No one else is dancing but that’s never stopped her before.  
“He seems nice,” Tessa says as the watch them leave. She isn’t sure what else to say.

  
“He seems like the most normal person she’s ever dated. No inappropriate tattoos or piercings, didn’t offer to fight me or invite for a threesome. He might be perfect.”

  
“Did all of those things happen?”

  
“Unfortunately, yes.” He smiles at her and after checking to make sure no one is looking she smiles back. Her smiles are only for him.

  
He puts his hand on her back and leads her towards the edge of the room where there’s a long table of food set up that almost no one is eating. In this situation, skaters will trade the calories in food for the calories in alcohol, but since neither she or Scott need to worry about that, they load their plates and sit away from the hustle and bustle of the party.

  
“So, when are you heading home?” he asks innocently, and her stomach plummets. “I’m heading out on Tuesday, if you need a ride to the airport.”

  
“I’m not.” The words are sticky in her mouth.

  
“Not on Tuesday?”

  
“Not at all.”

  
He just nods and waits. Gives her the option to explain or not. It’s her favourite thing about him, that he never pressures her for answers, and lets her decide when she’s ready to give them. If she changed the subject, he’d let her and never ask again.  
Instead they eat their food while discussing some of the upcoming junior teams and who looks like they’re going to make it all the way and who’s about to break up. He tells her all the rink gossip, that he only knows because Nat seems to be everyone’s confident and she tells him everything.

  
They make the rounds of the party, saying hello to people. She watches him deflect drink offers with a smile and an I’m driving, but he doesn't seem tempted in anyway or even a little annoyed. Though he does stroke the small of her back for reassurance every once in a while.

  
“Would you like to dance?” he asks while they’re standing watching the writhing bodies on the dance floor. The booze has been flowing and the skaters are feeling it. Nat took off her panties and threw them at James an hour before, he neatly folded them and put them in his pocket. And Marie and Patch are putting on quite the show in the middle of the dance floor.

  
The idea of trying to move like the twenty somethings in front of her, leaves her so horrified that it must show on her face, because Scott chuckles and says, “The next time there's a slow song.”

  
She’s shouldn’t want to dance with him, shouldn’t want to feel his body pressed up against hers, but she realizes with a flash that she does. Is hungry for it, for him and his touch. She’s so tired of denying what she wants and needs that she agrees without thinking.

  
They stand there for several minutes, waiting for a slow song. He rests his hand on the small of her back and presses. Seems to press harder the longer they wait and all she can think about is his hand on her back, the warmth of his palm through her dress. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so focused on a touch in her life, so turned on by such an innocent caress.

  
Finally, when she thinks her skin might catch on fire, a slow song starts to play. Scott runs his finger from her back to her arm as the strings begin and finally pulls her onto the dance floor by the tips of her fingers when the singers begin.

  
It’s a slowed down version of “All I Want for Christmas is You” sung as a duet. For a moment she starts to choreography a routine in her head as she often does when a song hits her. Only this time the skaters are her and Scott instead of Nat, and she has to shake her head to readjust the picture there. All thoughts of skating are forgotten as he carefully lifts her arms around his neck and then sweeps his hands around her waist.

  
Panic sets in for a moment, as she quickly scans the room to see if anyone is watching them. But everyone is too busy with their own moment of romance or the spectacle of Nat and James’ slow dancing to pay any attention to them. So, she lets herself melt a little further into his arms, to press her whole body into his, to let her cheek rest against his.

  
He sings snippets of the song into her ear. “I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know,” as they glide across the floor.

  
Then later, when she thinks there can’t possibly be any space between them, “'Cause I just want you here tonight. Holding on to me so tight.”

  
Without thinking she murmurs back to him, because she hates her singing voice, “Santa won't you bring me the one I really need.” She wants him to know she understands, that in this moment she feels the same pull.

  
He pulls back a little when she does and his eyes capture hers. They stay like that arms wrapped around each other barely swaying to the music, until the song ends.

  
The demanding beat of another song immediately fills the room and all the dancers who left, crash back onto the dance floor. He pulls her out of the way and over to a quiet corner of the room.

  
“I think I’d like to go home now,” she says after they’ve stood in silence for a moment. He’s breathing heavy when he looks at her, nods and without another word leads her out of the party and how the hall. It’s dark in the hallway outside of her office and it’s there that she finally feels comfortable enough to speak. “I don’t go home anymore. Ever.”

  
“No?” If he’s surprised he doesn’t show it.

  
“I’m not the Tessa they want me to be, I can’t be that person anymore. And everyone either tries to convince me to change or walks around on eggshells around me. And it ruins the holiday. So it’s better if I stay here. For everyone.” It all comes out in a whoosh, like it did for Carmen earlier. Only, she can say it without tears, because it stopped hurting a long time ago.

  
“Alright,” he agrees.

  
“That’s it?’ You’re not going to try and convince me otherwise.”

  
“I think you know yourself well enough to know what you need,” he says simply.

  
He says the words she’s wanted someone, anyone to say to her for so long, and it’s so overwhelming that it knocks her so hard, she has a physical reaction. Swaying for a moment, before Scott puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

  
It’s at that exact moment that Zach fucking Donahue comes roaring down the hallway, drunk off his ass.

  
He stops dead when he sees them and slurs out, “You’re standing under the mistletoe. That means you gotta kiss.”

  
Before she can react, Scott has stepped in front of her, almost as if he’s protecting her.

  
“Right Donahue, should I insist on the same thing next time I see you and Patch together?” he says in a teasing, dude bro way, but she can hear the ice underneath.

  
“Whatever,” Zach answers and then stumbles back the way he came.

  
He turns back to her and pulls her into a tight hug. “Zach’s an idiot.”

  
“Who’d want to kiss me anyway?” A strange disappointment creeps all over her skin and leaves her feeling bereft all over again.

  
“T, I want to make one thing very clear to you. I want nothing more than to kiss you. To have you in anyway you will let me.” The low confession on her ear makes her gasp, pull him tighter. “But I’m not going to do anything that you’re not ready for. I’m not giving you any reason to run away.”

  
He pulls back so he's looking her in the eyes. She sees everything warm and safe in them, but it still terrifies her. “I’ll be here waiting when you’re finally ready.”

  
When she nods, he leans down and kisses her cheek, before gently releasing her from the hug.

  
“Let’s get you home.”

Christmas morning dawns with a fresh coat of snow over the city. She knows it’s a cliche to wish for snow on Christmas, but for once she’s comfortable being a cliche. She still loves Christmas, always has, she just loves it in a different way now. Loves that the day is just for her, that she can lounge in bed when she wakes up, and turn on the lights on her Christmas tree as soon as she pads into her living room of her house. The tree that she decorated exactly the way she wanted, even though Scott did offer some suggestions while she did it.

  
She loves each of the presents under her tree all for other people that deliberated for hours about, and wrapped as carefully as possible. There are no gifts for her, she long ago asked her family to stop sending them and Marie knows better. She’ll give the gifts out when everyone returns from the holidays, something happy to return in the post euphoria crash.

  
As someone who makes more than enough money, she doesn’t need gifts, can buy whatever she wants or needs. Sometimes, she misses the surprise of a gift, the sense of knowing that comes with someone choosing the perfect thing for you. But she’ll gladly give that up in favour of the uncomfortable feeling of obligation that comes with receiving a gift.

  
She takes her time with her coffee, lingers over a book in her chair before she finally picks up her phone and acknowledges the world outside.

  
There’s only one message, and she’s not surprised to see it’s from Scott. She hasn’t heard from him since she said goodbye to him and Nat at the arena two days before. But she knew he wouldn’t let Christmas pass without at least an acknowledgement. But instead of the standard Christmas greeting she expects, there is a rather cryptic message telling her to check her porch, specifically behind the bench on the corner out of view from both the door and the street.

  
There she finds a rather large shape with a blanket over it. She hadn’t noticed it when she came home the night before, isn’t actually sure how long it might have been there. Under the blanket, she finds a plain cardboard box with a manila envelope on top. The letter T is scrawled on the front.

  
She manages to get the box inside and sits down on her couch to open the envelope.

  
_T,_  
_I know you said no gifts, but I think everyone deserves a surprise on Christmas Day. And Santa agreed and you and I both know that you can’t disagreed with Santa._  
_I figure it’s getting close to 10:00 right now_  
  
She checks her watch to see that it is in fact 9:57.

  
_There are fourteen presents inside this box. One for every hour remaining in the day. They are numbered for your convenience. Don’t cheat and open them all at once. Santa will know._  
_Open number one and give me a call._

  
Her hands shake a little as she opens the box and finds the terribly wrapped present with a large number one taped to it. She pries open the gift carefully, taking time to preserve the paper which is already wrinkled and covered with tape from the wrapping job. She wants to keep it though, put it somewhere safe where she can remember it always.

  
Inside she finds a pair of hand knitted mittens in a beautiful pattern interwoven with lavenders and greens and a note.

  
_A very wise person once told me that mittens make everything better. Since I saw you give yours away. I thought you could use another pair. Call me._

  
It takes a moment for her to find her breath, and stop the prickling of her tears. When she feels like she won’t totally make a fool of herself she calls him.

  
“Merry Christmas!” he booms over the cacophony of background noise. “Don’t say anything. I need to go somewhere I can hear you. It’s like Christmas exploded in here.”

  
She imagines him in the house he grew up in, surrounded by family and small children and she knows it’s exactly where he should be.

  
“Hey,” he says after she hears a door close and the noise disappear.

  
“I…” she doesn’t know what to say.

  
“Did you like it?” The fact that he would think she wouldn’t breaks her heart a little.

  
“I love it. I’m just…”

  
“Overwhelmed?” he finishes with a chuckle.

  
“But in a good way.”

  
They breath together over the phone for a minute, while she considers what to say. The last thing she wants is to say the wrong thing.

  
“I’m really excited to open the rest of them.” As soon as the words leave her mouth she knows they were the right choice.

  
“No cheating!”

  
“I wouldn’t.”

  
“Yes, you would.”

  
“Maybe for something else, but not this. I promise.”

  
“I know,” he sounds tired, but content and even though she should let him get back to his family, she selfishly keeps him talking. “Where are you?”

  
“In my childhood bedroom, which my mother has left untouched as a shrine since I moved out when I was sixteen.” He laughs and she can hear him moving around, imagines him stretching out on the bed. “The bed is so small but it does have a really kickass Maple Leaf’s bedspread.”

  
“You sound tired.” He likes to hide his fatigue from everyone but she sees it and hears it almost as well as Nat does.

  
“The kids got up at 5:30 and it’s been full throttle since then. I’m going to try and catch a nap later. Or maybe right now, since I’m already somewhere quiet and laying down.”

  
“I’ll go.”

  
“No, I like hearing your voice.” His voice is raw with sleep, and she imagines he won’t be awake long.

  
“Merry Christmas,” she whispers. “What did Santa bring you?”

  
“I seem to have reached the stage of life where everyone gets me either something practical or a joke gift,” he explains through a yawn. “So, socks, underwear, sweaters, two world’s greatest uncles mugs, you can have one if you want, and a blow up companion, that my brother is still trying to explain away to the children.”

  
She giggles at his description and agrees to take one of the mugs off his hands.

  
“T,” he whines. “I’m so sleepy.”

  
“Then you should go to sleep.” Listening to him makes her want to yawn.

  
“Call me at eleven? Promise.”

  
“Promise,” she agrees and thinks he might already be asleep as she hangs up.

She tries to settle back in with her book, but the box of presents calls to her from where she left them at her front door. So she abandons her book and moves the presents she has for others to her coffee table and puts each one of his under her tree. She sets a timer for eleven o’clock but doesn't need it because she’s counting down the seconds. She puts the wrapping paper from gift two with the one from gift one and finds a USB inside and a note.

  
_I wanted to make you a mixed tape or a CD but that doesn’t seem to be a possibility anymore. Instead, you’ll have to download this playlist. A little something to make your day more merry._

  
The playlist is all Christmas songs ranging from Rockin Around the Christmas Tree to O Holy Night (her favourite) to Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. But the very first song is the one they danced to the night of the Christmas party. She listens to it twice before she phones him.

  
She wakes him up, just as she suspected she might, but he tells her it’s perfect timing because brunch is about to be served and his mom would have yelled at him if she’d caught him sleeping. She doubts his story is true but in the spirit of Christmas she lets it pass.

  
At noon, she opens a snow globe from Winnipeg. She’s confused until she reads his note.

  
_I couldn’t fit the whole city in the box and even if I could, I don’t think you’d want it. But this was the place where we had our first competition, where we took some big steps as skaters, but where both of us took some major steps as people._

  
He tells her all about brunch when she calls him including a detailed description of his mother’s face when she threw every Moir male out of the house after they started the food fight she explicitly warned them against. Everyone, he explains with a longing in his voice, that is except his father, who Alma still looks at like she just fell in love with for the first time. She hangs up with a vice grip around her heart.

  
She opens the note for her one o’clock present before the present having learned her lesson from the snow globe.

  
_This is from Nat. She insisted that she be allowed to participate once she found out what I was up to._

  
It makes such perfect sense to her that Nat would be a part of any of Scott’s plans, since they’re such an intrinsic part of each other’s lives.

  
Nat’s gift is a World’s Best Coach mug and Tessa laughs so hard she has to sit down.

  
“I guess I can put it beside my World’s Best Uncle mug,” she tells Scott when he answers the phone.

  
Shortly before two o’clock, Marie phones to wish her a happy holiday and with her reminder that Tessa has a standing invitation to dinner. Normally, Tessa gives a polite refusal, but this year she hesitates.

  
“Cherie, it will only be us and a few very quiet relatives,” Marie jumps as soon as she senses weakness. “And you can leave whenever you want, no questions asked.”

  
“Can I give you answer in a little while?”

  
“You can give me an answer as you walk in the door, there’s always a place for you. Dinner is served at five.” She hangs up before Tessa has a chance to say anything else, but it’s two o’clock so she doesn’t mind.

  
_I thought you might need something delicious to make your day even sweeter._

  
She opens the square box to find it full of every kind of chocolate she could imagine. From the very expensive that no one should ever buy but she secretly loves, all the way down to the bars the little ones were selling as a fund raiser.

  
He doesn’t answer the phone when she calls and she’s devastated. Wanders around the house with it in her hand and keeps checking to see if there are any new messages if she somehow missed his call.

  
Finally, at 2:17, her phone rings.

  
“My fucking nephews hid my phone,” he says before she has a chance to speak. “So I threatened to throw all their toys away. Mom put everyone in a time out. I have to stay in my room for the next fifteen minutes but those bastards got forty five minutes”

  
“Should I go to Marie and Patrice’s for dinner?” she wants to laugh at his story but she has more pressing matters on her mind.

  
“Do you usually?”

  
“No.” The word rockets out of her. Sometimes that happens when she’s feeling anxious. “She asks me every year.”

  
“But this year you’re thinking you’d like to?”

  
“Maybe, but then I wouldn’t be home to open at least one, maybe two of your gifts. And I won’t be able to call you.” Which might be what’s bothering her more than anything.

  
“I officially give you permission to open as many presents as you need when you get home from dinner.” He says as if he were making a proclamation. “And it’s good if we take a break from talking because I’m getting a lot of shit from my family.”

  
“Oh, I didn’t mean..”

  
“T, they give me shit for everything. Don’t worry about it.”

  
“Ok, I’ll go. But I don’t have to leave until for awhile…”

  
“Then keep calling, and then text me during the party when you get bored.”

  
He’s just about to say something else when he hears his mom.

  
“Your time out is over,” she says and Tessa can hear the laughter.

  
“I’ll be done in a sec,” he answers

  
“Who are you talking to?”

  
“The same person I’ve been talking to the last three times you asked.” He sounds like an embarrassed teenager when he answers. It makes her smile on the other end of the phone.

  
“I’ll leave you to it then.”

  
“Sorry, about that,” he says his voice still full of embarrassment.

  
“It’s ok, go enjoy your family. I’ll talk to you at three.”  


  
Three o’clock’s present comes with an apology.

  
_So, it turns out that thinking of fourteen gifts was slightly more difficult than I imagined. So I may have had to go a little practical on this one. I noticed you’re always looking for supplies since you started wearing your hair up, so I hope this helps._

  
Present number seven is inside a Christmas themed box with a sad little bow on top. Inside she finds a treasure trove of hair elastics, clips, plastic hair rings and bobby pin. She one of the good plastic sings to loop her hair up into a bun, puts the bow on as an accessory and Facetimes Scott.

  
His face comes into view under a pile of what looks like children’s arms and legs.

  
“Everybody off,” he roars. The phone focuses on the ceiling and all she can hear is the complaining of multiple children and the mocking of adults.

  
“Hey,” he says, when he finally comes back into focus. He must have run to wherever he is. “I was at the bottom of a pile on.”

  
“You and your nephews made up?” His hair is all messy and she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him look more adorable or happier. He's the kind of person who should always be surrounded by family.

  
“Everyone apologized when their time outs were over.” He says solemnly, but then his expression suddenly changes to a grin “You’re wearing the bow from your present.”

  
“It’s very festive, don’t you think.” She does a couple quick instagram friendly poses for him as he laughs.

  
“I’m sorry number seven was like of lame.”

  
“No! I love it. It was so thoughtful.”

  
“Well,” he mumbles and she swears he’s blushing. “I’m glad you liked it.”

  
“I…” she stars but is interrupted by a giggling of children bursting into the room and tackling the phone out of Scott’s hand. “I’ll let you go.”

  
She hangs up and goes to restart her play list.

  
The time between is filled with laundry catch up and putting away all the clean clothes she’s let pile up over the last few months, so it the alarm for 4:00 comes as a surprise.

  
_You’re the smartest person I know, so you might be able to actual solve this. I’ve had it since I was seven and have never achieved more than two sides._

  
Gift number eight is an old and battered rubik’s cube and she hugs it to her chest before she calls him.

  
“If I’m the smartest person you know, you might need to get a better class of friends.” she says as soon as he answers.

  
“You under estimate yourself, T.”

  
“If you say so.” They’re quiet for a moment, and for once there’s no background clamour where he is. She can feel him relax, because as much as he’s the most outgoingperson she knows, she also knows he’s a bit of a introvert like her. That he needs the downtime to recover. “Are you ok?”

  
“Everyone is being very respectful of the alcohol elephant in the room and it’s driving me a little crazy. And then I feel like a shit for being annoyed.”

  
“Is this your first big family gathering since rehab?”

  
“Basically,” he says with a sigh. She imagines him running his hands over his face and through his hair like he does when he gets frustrated at practice.

  
“Have you told them how you feel?”

  
“I don’t want to complain, because man they put up with so much shit from me when I was drinking and were so there for me through rehab. I feel like such a jerk for complaining.”

  
“Maybe they just need you to tell them what the boundaries are? What you need from them?”

  
“You think?” he brightens a little at the idea.

  
“It’s the same as skating. You and Nat are the best because you're clear about what you expect and where you draw the line.”

  
“We’re not the best yet.”

  
“Just because the judges haven’t figured it out yet, doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” she argues back. “But I think you just need to talk to your family.”

  
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Thanks T.” He sounds like he’s on the verge of saying more. There’s something that hangs over their every conversation since he told her he wants her. Seems like they’re always on the verge of saying something but neither of them are ready yet. Their breath syncs and everything between them gets hot and overwhelming as they sit in the silence.

  
“I won’t be able to call for awhile,” she changes the subject, lets the moment evaporate.

  
“Have fun,” she can hear the reluctance and the understanding fighting in his voice. “Maybe you could take those presents that you pretend aren’t under your tree.”

  
“I guess I could.”

  
“Is there one for me?” he asks softly.

  
“You’ll find out on the third, when you get home,” she teases him. “I should go and start getting ready.”

  
“Just stay with me for a minute.”

  
“Ok.”

  
They luxuriate in the silence for more than a minute, until she hears someone calling and they both hang up without saying a word.

Dinner at Marie’s is better than she imagines. They’re thrilled to see her, thrilled with their presents and the relatively small guest list is charming and no one asks about her scar. She can’t stop thinking about how much she wants to call Scott, or about the presents waiting for her at home, but she still ends up staying longer than she intended.

  
By the time she arrives at home it’s time for four presents.

  
The card on the first one reads:

  
_I really hope you remember this conversation otherwise I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do._

  
There’s a tube of toothpaste inside. For a moment she’s genuinely concerned that he’s trying to tell her she has bad breath, but then she notices the price tag on the tube is twenty-three dollars. And then she remembers the conversation they had about paying an outrageous sum of money for organic toothpaste and how they thought it was just about the funniest thing in the world. Of course he would remember.

  
The next two presents are very clearly books. He’s made no effort to hide that fact with his terrible wrapping job. One of the corners has ripped and he's put it back together with about six layers of tape.

  
_This is a book, I’m sure you can tell despite my superior wrapping job even with only one working eye (is it too soon to make eye jokes?)_

  
She bursts out laughing. She’d made the first one eye joke a few weeks before and he’d made two or three since. She likes that he doesn’t tiptoe around her problems but finds a way to make her smile about them.

  
_I asked the very hip woman at the bookstore to recommend a book for you and then I checked your extensive book collection to make sure you hadn’t read it. She said it was magical and that’s what you are for me._

  
He has to stop and stead her hands after she reads his words. Inside the wrapping she finds “The Night Circus” which she’ll been meaning to read for ever.

  
_This is my favourite book, which I don’t think you’ve read, but I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, you have an extensive collection of books, so it’s hard to know. It’s all about hard work and just the hours you have to put in to achieve excellence and I think you and I know a little about that._

  
The next book is the Tipping Point, which she has read, but she’ll never tell him that. He’s written a note inside this book. _I didn’t get to spend my ten thousand hours with you but sometime I wish I had._

  
If Scott is making a play for her heart, she’s not sure there’s much she can do to stop him now.

  
There are two notes with the last present. One with Scott’s urgent scrawl on it, demanding: _OPEN ME FIRST_

  
_This is Nat’s second and last present because I told her to stop horning on my brilliant idea. I’m not allowed to know what it is and because it’s from Nat, I in no way take any responsibility for its contents._

  
Nat’s note says: _This present can be enjoyed alone, with a partner or several partners. I’m not here to judge. But if you are looking for a partner, might I suggest that mine seems more than eager to participate. He’s helpful like that._

  
Nat’s gift doesn’t look like it was wrapped by a small child, which is amazing considering Nat is the biggest small child she’s ever met. Tessa nearly drops the vibrator that greets her. Puts it on the couch beside her and tries not to look at it, but picks it up in fascination a few moments later. She’s still looking at it, in a purely scientific manner, when her alarm goes off to let her know it’s time to open her nine o’clock present.

  
_I hope you’ve recovered from your present from Nat and please never tell me what it is. My niece asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I told her I’d like it if she could make an ornament for a special woman I know. I asked for a ballerina, but she decided that a ballerina ninja was better and who am I to argue with a five year old. I tried once, it didn’t end well._

  
The ballerina ninja lives up to all her expectations and she immediately goes to hang it on the tree front and centre. Just as she’s about to hang it up, she notices another little tag on it that says: _wait there’s more._

  
In the box there’s a note marked 12B.

  
_Lately, everywhere I go and everything I do reminds me of you._

  
She pulls out the most beautiful hand painted scarf she’s ever seen. It’s a swirl of all her favourite colours and the most exquisite thing she’s ever seen.

  
She can’t keep the tears out of her voice as she calls him.

  
“Scott…”

  
“Are you crying about Nat’s gift?” he jokes.

  
“This is beautiful.”

  
“The scarf? I’m glad you like it.”

  
“All of it. Every moment of this is beautiful.”

  
“Even the toothpaste?” he jokes again and she knows he’s being purposely obtuse just to make her laugh.

  
“Even the toothpaste.”

  
“T,” he says carefully, his voice raw with emotion. “Would it be ok if we didn’t talk from now until the last present?”

  
“Why?” She tries not to take his request the wrong way.

  
“The next few gifts, they mean a lot to me, and I kind of want to let you process them before you and I talk. I think I need to process all of them before we talk.”

  
If there’s anyone who understands the need to process it’s her.

  
“I could just open them all now.”

  
“Cheaters never prosper,” he sing songs at her.

  
“But sometimes they win Olympic medals,” she counters.

  
“Sassy.”

  
“We can not talk until midnight.”

  
“And we can FaceTime then,” she can hear the tension leave his voice. “I want to see your face again.”

  
“Ok. Should I go?”

  
“Stay?” he begs “Ask me about my family.”

  
“Your family?” “I talked to them. You were right, getting everything out in the open helped. Then my brothers and I called each other dickheads and mom got mad and everything feels much more like home now.”

  
“I’m glad,” she says through a yawn.

  
“You tired?” he says and yawns back.

  
“I’ve been tired since that fucking bomb went off,” she says without thinking. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  
“I like it when you’re honest,” he says calmly. “I’ve been tired since Sochi.”

  
“I’m going to go. I’ll talk to you at midnight.”

  
  
Ten o’clock:  
I _followed a lady through the airport to find out the name of this perfume because I knew that you would love it. I made her write it in my phone so I wouldn’t forget. I think she thought I was insane. But I’m consumed by thoughts of you and what will make you happy and what will make you smile again. I know someday you’ll be ready to show that smile to the world again, but I will always think of it as my smile._

Eleven o’clock  
_Once you had to make a choice between ballet and ice dance, and the world and especially this man in it are so grateful you did. I see the way you watch the dancers move when we’re in studio and the way you move your body along with them. You’re still more graceful and elegant than any of us could ever hope to be. Here are two tickets to the ballet in April. Take anyone you like. (Although I really do hope you pick me)_

At midnight, there’s just a note.  
I _haven’t had time to build you those bookshelves but hopefully what’s hidden under the bed in the spare room will suffice. I know you never look under from the horrendous number of dust bunnies I found there._

  
She runs as fast as she can to the bedroom and almost dives under the bed. She finds something bulky and wrapped in a blanket. Slowly takes the blanket to reveal a clock surrounded by an intricately carved wooden face. She so entranced by the beauty of the clock that it takes her a moment to notice the note with it.

  
_One day I was walking past a second hand shop I saw this old clock in the window. The face was tattered and broken and the inner mechanism wasn’t working. It took a little research but I figured out how to repair it and then I found the beauty in the case and made it whole again. Because I think we’re a little like this clock, you and I. Maybe a little broken both on the inside, but beautiful and whole under it all._  
_Now turn it over._

  
Carved into the back she finds:  
_The time I’ve spent with you has been the best gift I’ve ever received._

She doesn't bother to hold back her tears when the FaceTime call connects. As soon as he sees her, he’s crying too. They cry with each other for a little while, and how she wishes he was in her arms. In the end they wish each other a Merry Christmas and hang up.

She’s admiring the clock on her wall, when there’s a knock on her door early in the evening on New Year’s eve. Mystified, because no one ever just knocks on her door, she opens it to find Scott standing there.

  
“I thought you weren’t coming home until the third.”

  
“My mother told me to stop feeling sorry for myself and to start the new year the way I intend to spend it. So I’m here because I want to spend any moment in the next year that I can with you.”

  
She pulls him into the house so forcefully that it almost knocks both of them over.

  
“I don’t know how much I can give you, but I promise to give you everything I can,” she says as quickly as she can.

  
“I’ll take anything you can give me.”

  
He puts her hands on her face and waits. She’s just about to nod when she remembers.

  
“Oh, wait.”

  
“If you’re not ready…” He blushes and drops his hands.

  
“No, I just…wait.” She runs from the door to her room. When she returns, he’s still standing at the door, right where she left him, ever patient. “I needed this.”

  
She holds up the sprig of mistletoe from outside her office. It’s a little wilted but still recognizable. He laughs as soon as he sees it.

  
“I regretted it. Not kissing you, so I saved this for when I had another chance,” she explains, adoring everything she sees in his eyes.

  
“You have another chance.”

  
“I’m scared though, that I won’t be able to do it right anymore, because of my mouth.” She’s thought about it a lot. Obsessed over it really.

  
“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure.” He leans towards her again.

  
When she nods her ok he leans down and kisses her. It’s a soft and gentle kiss, chaste and innocent against her lips. He waits for her to deepen the kiss and she does finally, pressing against him in a way she’s been longing for. They stay there for a long time kissing, finding the ways her mouth works and doesn’t, but really it doesn't matter because it’s magnificent. And like the clock completes her home, the kiss somehow completes her.

  
“I have a present for you,” she says when they finally stop kissing. She helps him out of his jacket and to the couch. He looks a little dazed and she likes that she did that to him, that she still has the power to make a man react like that. “Actually, I have two.”

  
“This looks suspiciously like a book,” he says after he makes a big deal out of shaking and squeezing the present.

  
“Just open it.” Scott tares the paper off in one great rip, just like she knew he would.

  
“It’s my favourite book,” she explains of the worn and tattered copy of Prayer for Owen Meany in his hands. “It’s my copy actually. I’ve had it since I read it for the first time when I was sixteen. It has a bunch of notes and drawings I’ve made over the years, and I thought you might…” she trails off. Maybe it’s silly to give someone a used book.

  
“It’s devastatingly perfect and you’re never allowed to even think about taking it back.” He pulls her down beside him, snuggles into her as close as possible. Kisses the top of her head, her cheek and again her lips. She thinks now that he's started kissing her he might never stop.

  
She thrusts the second gift at him. Again the paper is gone in seconds.

  
“Mittens!” He holds them up with glee. They’re a simple pair of red wool with a white maple leaf on them.

  
“I noticed that you were still wearing your Sochi ones and they’re getting pretty ratty, not to mention you seem angry with them. So…” He puts them on and strokes her hair with his mitten clad hands. “And I think we both know…”

  
“That mittens make everything better,” they finish together.

  
And she thinks, at least for today, they can do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they dance to is "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Ingrid Michaelson and Leslie Odom Jr.
> 
> I'm @rookandpawn1 over on twitter if you want to say hi.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always for my gals in the OLC and also the MAC. They make the world a better place.
> 
> I'm rookandpawn1 over on twitter if you want to come by and say hi.

They’re back to training and training hard, almost as soon as New Years ends, which is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because with Nationals and Worlds right around the corner they need all the practice time they can get, and because training takes so much time she doesn’t have time to worry about the lack of progression in their relationship. A curse because all she wants to think about is the lack of progression in her relationship with Scott.

They continue to kiss, often and deliciously, but only kiss. She knows he’s waiting for her to make the next move, but as much as she wants to, longs to, she can’t quite bring herself to move forward. The last man she had sex with was Matthew. Sometimes she wonders if she’s forgotten how.

It’s hard to think about anything but sex as he stands in her living room, shirtless and downing a glass of water. He’s spent the entire evening trying to fix her dishwasher, which broke earlier in the week. She’d spent that week cursing her dishwasher but has decided to forgive it since, it sprayed Scott with enough water that he’d ended up ditching his sopping wet shirt. 

“Are you starting at me?” he asks, startling her.

“Oh, um.” She can feel herself blush, but somehow she can’t drag her eyes away from his chest.

He moves over to where she’s sitting at the island and eases her legs apart before sliding between them. His chest is at eye level and he lets her gawk for a moment before he tips her chin up. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes that she’s never seen before.

“I like it when you look at me,” he says, wrapping each word around his tongue. He holds her gaze for a moment before he drops a kiss on her head and goes back to the dishwasher.

She thinks she stops breathing for awhile. Finally has herself under control enough to turn around and look at him again, only to find him bent over the machine. His back is a work of art, chiseled of marble. For a moment she’s hypnotized by the way his muscles flex and move.

“I’m not feeling well,” she announces and flees to the comfort and safety of her bedroom.

She’s still laying face down on her bed when she hears him enter the room.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks. She can hear the concern and the amusement in his voice.

“Not really,” she groans. “But we probably should.”

“Want to roll over and look at me?”

“Are you wearing a shirt?”

“No.”

“Then no.” 

He chuckles and leaves the room for a few moments. When he returns, he sits down on the bed next to her and places his hand on the small of her back. He lets it sit there while they breath together.

“I’m fully dressed now,” he whispers and she finally rolls over to discover he’s wearing one of his tattered sweatshirts and a smile.

“Do you want to lay down beside me?”

“I’d love to.” 

They both turn on their sides and face each other, close enough that their noses are almost touching. She feels so safe like this with him, in this cocoon of them. It’s not reality but for now that doesn’t matter.

“It’s ok to be attracted to me,” he whispers. “I’m so attracted to you.”

“Being attracted to you isn't the problem, knowing what to do with it is.” She tries to put all of the feelings and words swirling around in her head into something that makes sense. “I haven’t been with anyone since Matthew, and it’s just so overwhelming.”

“It’s hard for me too…”

“Waiting for me to be ready is a lot to ask,” she cuts him off with out meaning to.

“That’s not… Is that what you think?” He looks baffled and maybe, for the first time, a little angry.

“I know there’s probably a line of women waiting…” Younger women, women who aren’t broken and damaged. He deserves so much more and if she were a better person she’d let him go and find it. But she’s so selfish and wants to cling to one of the only good things that’s happened in a long time.

“T…” he sighs and takes a deep breath. “There’s no other woman I want and I’ll wait as long as you need, but that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“I’m as terrified of this as you are.” He takes both her hands in his, kisses each knuckle before he continues. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex sober. I was drunk the first time and every time after. What if I’m terrible without the alcohol.”

It takes her a moment to process what he’s said. It never occurred to her that he might be as overwhelmed as she is. He always seems so confident and at ease that she forgets that he has his demons too.

“If you fuck like you kiss. I don't think it’ll be a problem.”

His laugh is so sudden it makes her start. By the time they both stop giggling, all the tension is gone.

“Could you… would you like to sleep here tonight?”

He nods and pulls her close. “But just sleeping, Ms. Virtue. You need to keep your busy hands to yourself.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

As Nationals loom over the rink, all thoughts of sex are put aside in favour of practise. All their focus turns towards how to win and how to maximize their points going into Worlds. Everyone is too physically and emotionally exhausted to consider anything other than skating. Even Nat puts her budding relationship on hold, claiming she can’t handle the distraction. Even though Tessa suspects there’s more to it, she accepts the excuse without question.

They finish their last practice before Nationals on a high and she’s sure they’re ready, even if she’s a little nervous about where the judges heads might be. She knows her team are the best, but they lost a lot of momentum after Sochi and with their year off. They didn’t do as well as she wanted at the Grand Prix Final and she’s not sure what she can do to help them.

“You know they want you to coach them next year,” Scott says, as he comes off the ice. Nat’s always the first one off the ice, and he's always the last.

“What are you talking about?” 

“Cici and Phillipe,” he cocks his head toward the junior team who are just taking the ice. They look away as soon as she looks in their direction. “They’re afraid to ask you.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She glares at the junior team and CiCi trips.

“And now we know why they’re afraid of you?” Scott laughs from the bench where he’s unlacing his skates. She wants to go over and sit beside him, wrap her arms around him but they’re very careful not touch each other in public. 

“I meant it’s ridiculous that they’d want me to coach them.”

“Why is it ridiculous? You coach one of the best teams in the world.” He gives her his cocky smile, and for a minute she thinks about something other than skating.

“I coach the best team in the world.”

“So, you can see why they might want you to be their coach,’ he shoots back and dares to smirk at her. 

“I don’t know about that.” She really doesn't know what to think. She’s never planned to be a coach, let alone, one who had several teams. On the other hand, she sees something in Cici and Phillipe. They could be magical with the right influences. But is she the right person to make that magic?

“I’m glad to see you’re considering it,” he whispers, checks to make sure no one is looking, and slides his hand onto her back.

“You don't know everything about me.”

“Not yet, but I’m planning to.” His answer sends a shiver down her spine. She’s still trying to recover as he heads into the dressing room.

She turns her attention to the junior team and starts making notes in her head.

“Are you thinking about Cici and Phillipe?” he asks her a few days later at dinner. He usually cooks for her and she does the dishes. After dinner they watch a little TV or review tapes before calling it an early night. He hasn’t slept anywhere but her bed in weeks. She’s not sure why they keep pretending they don’t live together. The real question is: can they be considered anything other than roommates, when all they do is kiss? And even that is kept to a minimum because both of them are too tired to do much more than sleep.

“How did you know?” he continues to surprise her. This gentle way he has of observing her, of noticing her.

“You’ve been humming the same song for awhile now, especially when you’re watching them.”

“I just have an idea for some choreography for them.”

“I’m glad you’re considering taking them on.” He kisses her head and picks up her plate before heading to the sink. “I’ll do the dishes. You have what looks like three hours of video to go over.”

She sighs and moves to the couch. There's only a few days until Nationals and everyone is in a tizzy, and wants feedback and immediately. Her expertise is in high demand and the amount of time she has to spend with people, is making her itchy with anxiety.

“You and Nat wouldn’t mind?” she calls to him as she makes notes on Zach’s edges or lack there of. “If I took on another team.”

“We’d welcome someone else getting your focus. Then you wouldn’t be on our asses all the time,” he jokes back. She pauses the video for a moment so she can watch him. He washes dishes with his whole body, sings ridiculous country music at the top of his lungs and gets water everywhere. For a moment, she’s jealous that such a simple thing can make him so happy, but them she just lets herself feel his joy.

“Well,” she says finally. His happiness has washed over her, crept up into her heart and her smile. “They might not even ask me.”

“They’re going to ask you,” he dances his way to the couch, pulls her up into his arms, which are covered in soap and waltzes her back to the sink. They dance to the music in his head for a a few minutes, before he decorates her nose with bubbles and sends her back to her homework with a hungry kiss and a spin.

Nat and Scott are perfect during the short dance at Nationals, and end up in first place going into the free dance, by a significant margin. They can only see each other as they come off the ice and into the kiss and cry area. They’re like this when they compete, in their own bubble and even she barely exists. When they act like that, she can understand why everyone thinks they’re a couple, why everyone wants them to be a couple. Sometimes she thinks that would be the better choice for everyone but her.

But as soon as he’s changed, he only has eyes for her again. They spend a quiet evening together, the three of them, discussing strategies and feeling buoyant about the day’s success. She says good bye to him at the door to her room, they’d agreed to stay apart for everyone’s sake, and then proceeds to spend entire night missing him.

The good feelings don’t last long.

Everything seems to be going according to plan, but when her team comes off the ice after the warm up, she can tell that Scott’s tense just from the set of his shoulders. He smiles at her but there’s no recognition in his eye. When she checks in with Nat, she just shrugs, and walks away, and a sinking feeling settles in the pit of her stomach.

Her worries come to fruition only thirty seconds into their routine, when Scott trips going into a twizzle, misses the element and ends up sprawled on the ice. He’s up within seconds, and the rest of the program of the program is flawless, but the damage is done. When he gets off the ice, he won’t make eye contact with her, but even stranger, he won’t look Nat directly in the eye.

They lose the free dance, but end up getting back their Canadian championship by half a point. While Nat is her usual buoyant self, she can tell that despite the smile on his face, Scott is devastated. He floats through the medal ceremonies and interviews, saying all the right things and making jokes, but she can tell he’s not really there. He disappears as soon as he can, leaving her and Nat behind without a word.

“I’m worried about him,” Nat says in the cab on the way back to the hotel.

“You should talk to him,” she answers. She feels like a failure as a coach. She has no idea how to help her team.

“I tried to. He just keeps apologizing. I don’t think he’s hearing anything I say.” She's never seen Nat look so sad. “I think he needs you, T.”

“I don’t…”

Nat has worried her bottom lip so much that all the lipstick is gone, and she looks like a lost little girl as she looks up at Tessa.

“He’s my best friend and we’ve been the centre of each other’s universe for a long time, you know. And I’ve always thought I could fix everything for him, but I don’t think I’m the person who can do that for him anymore.”

“Nat, I think he still needs you the way he always did.” The last thing she wants is to come between them.

“Maybe, though that’s the problem,” Nat says carefully, just as they pull up in front of the hotel. “He needs someone who’s not going to fix it for him. He needs to figure out how to do that for himself.”

Nat reaches across the seat and hugs her. She’s so surprised that she lets her, and the next thing she knows the blond is out of the car and half way into the hotel.

Tessa goes straight to her room, but can’t sit still, torn between wanting to bang on Scott’s door and make sure he’s alright, and unsure if that’s what he wants or needs. Finally, she decides it’s her duty as his coach to talk to him, even if it might be overstepping her bounds as his maybe, sort of girlfriend.

He opens the door as soon as she knocks, almost as if he’d been waiting for her. She’s relieved that he appears sober, but sad.  
“I thought you might be Nat. I wanted to apologize to her again.”

“You tripped. It happens to everyone. You don’t have to apologize for that.” That’s the part she can’t understand, why he feels so guilty. As far as she can tell, he hit a divot at a bad angle, there was nothing he could have done about the fall.

“I promised her I wasn’t going to fuck up this time,” he says as he paces the room, pulling at his hair.

“You didn’t.” She wants to put her arms around him, but thinks he might need his space.

“It’s fucking Sochi all over again.”

“You were sick in Sochi, that wasn’t your fault either.”

He stops everything and stares at her. His voice is like ice.

“Except it was. It was my fault and Nat’s been lying to cover my ass for years.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he crumples onto the bed. 

She waits by the door. Waits for him to tell her what he needs.

“It wasn’t food poisoning.” When he looks up at her he has tears in his eyes, but she holds her ground at the door. “I was hung over and probably still drunk and I fucked up. That’s what happened.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?” He looks at her like she’s crazy and that spark of anger is back in his voice. “I tell you that reason that I lost the fucking gold medal is because I’m a drunk asshole and you say ok?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you going to yell at me? Tell me how disappointed you are in me?” 

“Why would I be disappointed in you?”

He just stares at her for a moment, and then he starts to sob. She goes to him then, eases him into her arms and holds him while he cries. Doesn’t say anything until, he’s settled.

“I thought you’d hate me,” he says into her neck.

“I could never hate you.” Not even if he got up and walked away from her in that moment, never spoke another word to her, she couldn’t. He’s given her so much of herself back. So much that she thought she’d lost forever.

“I screwed up so bad, T.”

“But you got help, and you have a second chance.”

“And I screwed up again today.”

She pulls away from him, confused. Her shoulder is soaked from where he was crying, but she can only focus on how tortured he looks.

“But you weren’t hungover today, or drunk, were you?” There’s no doubt in her mind that he was stone cold sober when he took that ice. What happened to him could have and had happened to every skater.

“No…” he hesitates. Takes a deep breath.

“But?”

“But I almost was.”

And there it is. The thing he’s been holding back. 

“What happened?” she takes both his hands in hers and gives him a nod, lets him know it’s ok to tell her.

“After you and I said goodnight, I planned to go straight to bed but my buddy Mikey knocked on my door and he had a bottle of champagne…” he stops and looks at her, almost as if the words are stuck in his mouth.

“Did you have a drink?”

He shakes his head.

“That’s great…”

“But you don’t know how badly I wanted to. All I could think about was how much I wanted that drink and how willing I was to give up everything I’ve won, for it.” The words tumble out of him. “I was so close.”

“But you didn’t.” She pulls him into her. She’d take all his pain if she could, she already has so much of her own. What’s one more thing.

“No, but it doesn’t matter that I didn’t because it still screwed me over, even when I resisted. I couldn’t stop thinking about it today and my focus was gone.” He grabs at her back, pulls her impossibly closer.

“Even if it did. Even if it was the reason you made a mistake, you still won.” She lowers her voice and speaks directly into his ear. Tries to get him to breath with her and calm his frantic heartbeat.

“By half a point.”

“I don’t mean the Nationals. Who cares about stupid titles. You won personally.” She lets him breathe for a moment. Lets him digest the idea that there might be something more important in the world than medals. “This is the first time you’ve ever been tempted, isn’t it.”

She knows he’s had a remarkably easy time since rehab. So, she's not surprised that this set back has knocked him so hard.

He nods against her shoulder before she continues, “But you made it through, and that makes you so strong. So anything that happened because of that, it’s just part of the process of getting better.”

“Thanks,” he whispers and she can feel him relax a little, to accept her words. “I just don't want to let Nat down. She took a huge chance on me.”

“Oh, love,” she breaths, and runs her fingers through his hair. “You’re her whole world. The only way you could let her down is by keeping secrets from her.”

He pulls back and gives her the first smile she’s seen in days.

“I should go talk to her, shouldn’t I?”

“I think you should.” 

He puts a hand on each side of her face and pulls her in for a kiss. He’s not better, neither of them are, but she thinks they might be on the way.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but I hope a satisfying one.

The tension around the rink was palpable and people were starting to crack under the pressure. Zach and Maddie hadn’t spoken in three days, Gabi P had developed a stress rash and Nat had started repeating every thing she said under her breath. And Tessa had taken to hiding in Marie’s office for hours, reviewing video together and avoiding the very dramatic problems of overstressed skaters.

“I think we should call it a day.” Marie says, through a yawn.

“I’m afraid to have sex with Scott,” the words are out and hanging in the air between them before she was aware she was thinking them.

Marie blinks at her twice, while she feels her face burn with embarrassment.

“So, this is a closed door conversation,” Marie says in that even way of hers and leaves her desk to do just that. She sits on the couch instead of returning to the desk, and invites Tessa to join her with a gentle incline of her head.

Tessa contemplates running away, seriously considers never returning to the rink but joins Marie on the couch instead.

They sit in silence for a moment. Marie starts to speak and stops several times before she finally says, “You aren’t sleeping with Scott?” 

“Why would you think I am?” she doesn't mean to sound shocked.

“Cherie, does he not sleep at your house every night?” She looks confused by Tessa’s nod. “And that is just.. platonic?”

“Not…” Tessa can feel herself blush remembering how they kissed and kissed the night before. His body on top of her, his hips grinding into hers, and then going to bed breathless and unsatisfied. “Exactly.”

“What does that mean? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way you look at him.”

“Do I really have to go into details?” she’d rather keep the whole discussion as vague as possible.

“How else will I make sure I have all the details when I tell everything to Patrice later?”

“You can’t tell Patrice anything about this!” For a moment Tessa is horrified but then takes a look a the cheeky expression on Marie’s face and bursts into a giggle. “You’re a terrible person.”

“Yes, yes, but now you are a little more relaxed and we can have a real conversation.

Marie is right. She’s always right. It’s very annoying.

“Alright,” Marie pats her hand, smiles and slips into problem solving mode. Tessa has seen that expression a thousand times, but usually she’s applying it to a technical problem not a personal one. “So, why are you afraid?”

“Is it even appropriate?” she starts because it is a worry for her, however small. “I’m his coach after all.”

Marie raises an eyebrow at her, “He’s a grown man. I think he can make decisions for himself.”

“But I’m a lot older that him, and in a position of power.”

This argument earns a scoff and a raised eyebrow.

“Perhaps, now you will tell me the real reason.”

“What if he’s horrified?” she can’t stop the tears that spring from her eyes. She never cries in front of Marie. “When he sees me naked, what if I repulse him?”

“Oh my darling,” Marie grabs her and pulls her into a hug. “He could never.”

“But,” she manages between sobs. “You don’t know that.”

It’s the worry that stops her every time. She doesn't know if she could handle seeing disgust in his eyes. Doesn’t know if she’d ever be able to recover from it. She knows he would never purposely hurt her, but if he felt it for even a moment she would recognize it in his eyes, and it would ruin everything.

“Have you told him how you feel?”

“No.” She’s tried so many times, but she can’t make herself say the words. 

Marie lets her cry until she’s done.

“I have to tell him, don’t I?”

“I don’t think you will be able to rest until you do.” Marie grabs her hands and holds them. It’s the first time Tessa has let her and Marie almost pulls back out of habit before realizing that she has permission. “But it’s better to get it out now, don’t you think? Less distractions and think of the rewards.”

“Marie!” she says at the sight of the other woman’s raised eyebrow, feels herself start to blush again. They’ve never spoken like this before, like friends instead of colleagues, even though, if asked she would describe Marie as her best friend. She likes the change, she thinks, but it will take some getting used to.

“I’ve heard stories. If they’re true, you are a very lucky woman.”

The idea inflames something in her, something that was still long dormant, makes her want to have the conversation immediately. Yet it also worries her. Matthew was only her second lover and it’s been so long since.

“Thank you for your time.” She doesn’t mean the words to come out as formally as they do, but Marie just smiles and nods. She supposes that if there’s anyone who understands her, it’s this wonderful woman who saved her in so many ways.

“I’m afraid to have sex with you because I think you’ll be horrified if you see me naked,” she says as soon as she walks through the door to her house.

Scott is sitting on the couch already changed into pyjamas and reading a book. She can smell the dinner he cooked waiting for her in the oven, even though he must have eaten hours ago.

“Ok,” he says slowly, enunciating each letter.

“Never mind.” She rushes past him, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Her inability to even approximate a normal person is staggering.

He catches up to her in the kitchen, getting between her and the stove.

“Hello, T.” He gives her a kiss on the forehead before continuing. “Your dinner is in the oven. How was your day?”

“Fine. Pretend I never said anything.” She can’t quite look at him yet.

“I don’t want to pretend you never said anything,” he says as he tips her chin up to him. His eyes are as full of the same softness, the thing she starting to recognize as love, as they always are. “It was just a lot to digest before hello.”

Instead of dealing with her pronouncement, they sit down to dinner. Well, she sits down to dinner and he keeps her company. They talk about their day, and the politics at rink, anything but what’s hanging over them. She appreciates that he knows she needs this, but is surprised to realize that he needs it too.

She clears the dishes and loads the dishwasher, gives herself a few more minutes before she joins him on the couch. She tries to sit at the other end but he just shakes his head and pulls her close.

“Do you really think that I could ever be horrified by how you look?” there’s no accusation in his voice even though there deserves to be.

“You don’t understand how bad it is.” 

This isn't one of those cases of her thinking it’s worse than it is. She’s horrified by what she sees. How can he not be.

“What do you need from me?” 

She’s momentarily stunned into silence by his answer. No one has ever asked her what she needs, they always try and offer advice, tell her what to do. There’s something powerful in being given back control, of someone treating her like she understands herself better than they do.

“Could we…” embarrassment burns her cheeks but she makes herself look him in the eye. If she can’t look at him then she shouldn't be making the request. “With the lights off…”

“You can ask me for anything.” he kisses the knuckles on her right hand. Runs a soothing finger over the rough patch of burned skin that starts on her wrist and extends all the way up her arm. “I want to give you everything.”

“Could we touch each other? Without our clothes, but in the dark?”

She thinks that if he can feel just how damaged she is, he might not be so surprised when he finally sees her.

“I’d like that very much.” He stands up and puts out his hand.

“Now?”

“You’re in charge.” He keeps his hand outstretched. There’s a gentle smile on his face.

“Now,” she whispers and takes his hand and lets him lead her to the bedroom. He leaves her at the doorway and immediately goes to the window and draws the blinds. When he returns to her side, he kisses her on the cheek before flicking off the light. He leaves the door partially open so they have enough light to find each other but that details are vague.

He pulls her into a gentle hug and holds her until her breathing is steady and her hands have stopped shaking.

“Can I undress you?” he whispers. Whispering is safe, makes everything a little less real.

“Please.”

He takes his time. First finding the hem of her turtle neck and playing with it a little, teasing the skin near her navel, she gasps when his knuckles make contact with her skin. Her whole body is buzzing and he’s barely touched her.

She closes her eyes and surrenders to the feeling of his hands on her. His palms brush her rib cage as he works the shirt up her torso. Along the sides of her breast, slowly past the nape of her neck. The only time he moves quickly is when he pulls the shirt over her head, replacing the fabric with a gentle kiss on her lips. 

His hands find her body in earnest, trace the lines and shapes of her as if he were mapping the universe. He’s gentle and through and each touch terrifies and excites her.

He gives the same care and attention to the burned skin as he does the unmarred parts of her. She doesn’t feel as much in those places, but she almost cries when he doesn’t back away from the damaged parts of her, explores them and adores them too. He follows a careful trail from her ribs to her back and gradually makes his way to the clasp of her bra, where his fingers pause, asking permission. She knows he can’t see it, but she suddenly wishes she was wearing something pretty and lacy for him instead of the plainest cotton she could find.

While he waits for her answers, he rests his lips against her neck. Not quite kissing, not really moving at all and it makes her moan. His lips have been there before but this feels more like a promise than anything before.

“Please,” she says again and he pops the hooks on her bra one at a time, before drawing it down her arms and letting it fall to the floor. She starts to shake a little, a combination of fear and anticipation. He puts a hand on each of her arms and waits.

“Could you take off your shirt, please?” she asks when she feels slightly more in control.

“I can do anything you want.” There’s a wicked tilt to his voice that sends shock waves through her, reminds her that this moment isn’t about fear. It’s about desire.

As his shirt hits the floor, she takes two steps and presses her chest against his and luxuriates in the feeling of bare skin on bare skin. Being with him like this feels decadent in a way that nothing has before. His hands are on her back with an urgency that wasn’t there moments ago and she follows suit, exploring the muscles she’d glimpsed and fantasized about.

She didn’t know touching someone, just touching someone, could be this erotic, but she’s wet with want and he’s hard against her leg. Now that she’s touching him, she’s greedy for more sweeping her hands lower and lower, toying with the waistband of his pyjama pants. His grunt makes her reckless, and she dares to cup his ass, in the way she’s wanted to since the day they met.

He grunts again and spins her around, presses her back hard to his chest, as if he can’t bear the thought of their skin losing contact. His hands find her breasts and she’s can’t breath. Can only feel.

God, his hands. 

Whatever god made them, she wants to pray to them, to worship at their altar, the way his hands worship her breasts. She never put much thought into how her breasts might give her pleasure, they were just a nuisance that hindered training and did nothing for her figure. But as she stopped training and aged, they’ve filled out and with them so much possibility. Possibilities that Scott seems fully intent on exploring and finding.

“I know we said touching, but I’m desperate to put my mouth on you,” he pants into her ear as he rolls her nipple.

“God, please.” She can only beg, feels like now that she’s started wanting, feeling, she’ll never be able to stop.

He walks her to the bed, refuses to stop touching her as they make their way across the room. His mouth is insistent on her neck, his hands on her breast and his hips hard against her ass. As soon as they reach the bed, he stills, turns her around and lowers her down to the bed.

“Is this ok?” he asks as he crawls up her body and settles beside her. His hand is splayed over her stomach and she can just make out the smile on his face. He looks beautiful in the the pale light, almost like a black and white picture. Her heart is so full of him.

She can only nod, doesn’t trust the words that might spill from her lips if she spoke.

He moves his mouth delicately down her neck, taking his time with the juncture between her neck and her shoulder, before working his way across her clavicle. She takes the opportunity to continue her exploration of his back, but that's all forgotten as his hot mouth finds her nipple. She gasps and when he doubles down his efforts, moans in a way that doesn’t sound familiar and grabs his hair.

If his groan is any indication, he likes her hands in his hair, so she gives a tug.

“Fuck,” he says and moves to her other nipple, his hand replacing the one that he left.

With every swipe of her tongue she moves closer and closer to the edge, until she’s panting and writhing. Didn’t know that she could get this close from just his wicked tongue on her. But she needs more. Needs his hands everywhere.

“Scott, please,” she asks for what she hopes is the final time. She starts to pull at his bottoms, needs to feel every part of him now.

She doesn’t have to ask twice. He's pulling at her leggings at the same time as she removes his pants and before she can really think they’re both naked. 

With that realization, embarrassment floods through her. She’s naked with him and she wants to run and hide.

“Stay with me, love,” he whispers as he pulls her close. “It’s just us, no one else.”

But somehow it doesn’t feel that way. Somehow it feels like there are so many people in bed with them. Matthew, Scott’s apparently many other loves, Nat, even Marie in a way.  
“Do you want to stop?” he asks even though they already have.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” her face is hot with regret and lingering desire. She buries her face in his chest and lets herself hide. Barely a moment passes before his hand winds into her hair and he starts to message her scalp.

“The only way you could ever disappoint me is if you did something you didn’t want to do.”

“But don’t you want…” she can barely make herself say the words. “… to finish. Don’t you want more.”

“I think we’ll get to more eventually, but this was so much more than I expected.” he kisses the top of her and she snuggles in a little closer. “Everything you give me is a gift.”

“You’re…” What did she ever do to deserve this man. “…too much, Scott Moir.”

“And here I was thinking I was just the right amount,” he jokes and of course she giggles, because for some reason she finds him funny. And for an equally mystifying reason, he finds her giggle funny and starts to laugh along with her.

When they’re done laughing, they cuddle until they’re both sleepy.

When she goes to get ready for bed, she digs through her drawer until she finds one of her short sleeve shirts. Maybe she can let him see her a little bit at a time.

Maybe that won’t hurt so much.

Maybe she’s ready to finally take the next step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rookandpawn1 over on Twitter. Come by and say hi.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. Updates will probably continue at a glacial pace until I finish work on a personal project. I wasn't supposed to write this chapter at all, but something about this story just won't let me go.
> 
> All of my thanks, as always to LPM for her editing and support and Walkinrobe for her general awesomeness.

She’s progressed to sleeping in a tank top by the time they arrive at Worlds, but that's their only real progress. There’s a world title to win and everything else takes second place.

They slip into their roles of skater and coach as they step foot on the plane to Boston. Scott sits with Nat as they seal their impenetrable bubble and she takes her seat with Marie and the rest of the coaching team.

She can’t be his almost lover at competitions, so they do not share a room. Neither of them need the distraction and she’s not ready to have the world know about them. Might never be. It’s surprisingly easy to leave that part of her life in Montreal, possibly because they’re so used to shutting down everything personal in favour of competition. But she also knows that they’re both comfortable in their relationship and don’t feel the need to define it or coddle it.

Scott and Nat are so ready. Their programs are as close to perfection as possible. They skate together as if they are one person. Sometimes she allows herself to turn off the technical side of her brain and watch them skate.

And when she does, she’s blown away by their beauty. She insisted their program be personal, and they’d finally decided on a theme of second chances and finding the light within. While she’s proud of her choreography, it’s the way that Scott and Nat breathe life into the program that brings tears to her eyes and joy to her soul. They look like love and understanding personified, and in those moments she understands why everyone wants them to be a love story. In those moments she wants that too.

She knows they’re going to win and take their rightful place at the top of the ice dance world.

They’re brilliant in the rhythm dance. They hit every key point and their twizzles are so in sync that they look like one person moving together. She’s thrilled and can’t help the smile that blossoms over her face, managing to school her features before a camera can catch her.

Once they’re in the kiss and cry, Scott’s eyes briefly flash a look of understanding and desire her way, before he returns to his Nat bubble. In turn, Nat doesn’t try to hide her delight, bouncing in her seat and babbling a stream of consciousness excitement that reminds Tessa of a five-year-old. She loves both of them with her whole heart.

The mood instantly sours when the marks go up and they’re in third place.

“Just keep smiling like that’s exactly what you expected,” Tessa whispers, barely moving her mouth, a technique she perfected with Matthew, and draws up from sense memory without thinking.

Scott keeps smiling but his eyes flash with anger, while Nat doubles down her efforts and acts even more excited, going so far as to fist pump at the marks. She’s so ridiculous that Scott barks out a laugh and pulls her into a hug, kissing the top of her head in the process. Tessa can’t fight the brief smirk that flits across her face.

No one is laughing when they get back to the hotel and into Tessa’s room.

“Fuck!” she shouts and launches her bag across the room, turns to see Nat and Scott staring at her. “What?”

“We’ve never seen you angry before,” Nat explains. “That was…”

“Hot,” Scott finishes, and her angry takes a brief turn to desire.

“That’s not what I was going to say, but yes it was hot,” Nat agrees with a wink.

“Those marks were ridiculous.” She tries to get her temper under control but she hasn’t allowed herself to be angry in a very long time and it feels… good.

“What did we miss?” Scott asks, as he scans the protocols on his phone. He’s always looking for the technical advantage, sees that aspect of the sport almost as well as she does. He’ll be an amazing coach one day.

“Did we do something wrong?” Nat asks ignoring the results, as Scott offers her a look at his screen. “Numbers aren’t really my thing. Just give me a quick summary.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I did.” Tessa paces the room, wonders if there’s something else she can throw.

It takes her a moment to realize they haven’t responded and she turns to find them sitting side by side on the end of her bed. The confusion emanating from their bodies is almost comical.

“There’s only one explanation for those marks and it’s politics.”

In all her careful planning she’d forgotten to take perhaps the most important factor in ice dance into account. The real game is the politicking behind the scenes and she’d get a -5 GOE for that. Not only does she not have a network of allies, she’s been actively avoiding talking to anyone associated with the sport.

“I’m sorry,” she says to their sad faces as all the anger and energy drains out of her body.

“It’s ok…”Scott starts before Nat leaps up and cuts him off.

“So what are you going to do about it?” she demands.

“Nat!” Scott starts but both women dismiss him with a wave of a hand.

“We’re just supposed to roll over and let them fuck us up the butt? Is that what you’re suggesting?” Nat shoots back at Scott, and then turns to Tessa. “Because that’s not what I signed up for.”

“Nat, for fuck’s sake…”

“No,” Tessa puts her hand on his shoulder to stop what she’s sure will be a beautiful defence of her. “She’s right.”

Nat sticks her tongue out a Scott and then winks at him.

“It’s part of my job and I haven’t been doing it.”

She wants to hide in her room and never come out again. She wants to turn back time and never have taken them on as skaters. She wants to turn back time and never have gone into that city in the first place. But more than any of those things, she wants to see her team win, and if that means that she has to go and charm her way through the ISU, then she’ll damn well do it.

“You two go relax. Concentrate on your programs and nothing else. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“That’s my girl.” Nat throws her arms around Tessa and squeezes more than is entirely warranted or comfortable. “And just for the record, I do occasionally enjoy being fucked up the butt, but under the right circumstances.”

With a wink, she heads for the door.

“I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” Scott says, the smile back on his face.

“Lubrication is key, folks.”

Scott just laughs as Nat closes the door, but as soon as it’s shut he pulls Tessa into a desperate kiss.

“God I missed you,” he says into her hair when he’s finally finished. Maybe they aren’t as good at separating themselves as she’d thought. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

She knows he means it and would accept any decision she’s made, but she can hear the hope that she would, in his voice. At their core, all three of them are the fiercest of competitors and every single one of them would do anything, give up anything, if it meant they would win.

The realization that she included herself in that statement hits her hard and lights a fire in her belly. It’s like a piece of her that had been lost for so long is back. She is a fierce competitor. Nat and Scott wouldn’t have stood a chance against her back in her prime.

“Not only do I have to. I want to.” She kisses him. Traps his bottom lip with her teeth when he tries to move away. Teases him, before she finally lets him escape. “Now, get lost. You’re too distracting.”

“So, fucking hot.” He groans, kisses her hand and leaves.

She thinks she very much enjoys being called fucking hot, but even more than that, she likes feeling that she is.

She takes a moment to compose herself before finding her phone.

“Marie?” she asks before the other woman has a chance to answer. “Where are you? We need to talk.”

At ten am she is the first person through the doors at Neimann Marcus, and leaves at 11:35 am with two new suits and coordinating tops, a dress, a coat, several gorgeous cashmere scarves, three pair of heels and a pair of boots that were unnecessary but too beautiful to leave behind. She also buys a matching lace bra and panty set, deciding she absolutely needs them for practical reasons, even though they are far too tiny to wear for any length of time. She blushes every time she thinks about them carefully wrapped at the bottom of her shopping bag.

She takes time with her appearance. Curls and styles her hair, and as it cascades down her shoulder, she remembers how much she used to love her hair, how she used to play with styles and colours. How she used it to entice and distract, and how freeing it feels to use it in that way again.

Her make up gets equal attention. There’s no way to cover her scars, and she’s not sure if she even would anymore if she could. They’re a part of her now. She isn’t ready to celebrate them but they’re proof she survived, and maybe it’s time she remembered that. Maybe it’s time everyone remembered it.

Dressed in her new suit, and heels, she meets Nat and Scott at the arena for their practice session. Nat smirks when she sees her. Scott looks her from head to toe. Twice. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes are full of promises for later. Any thoughts of later will have to wait for just that, because she has work to do.

While Nat and Scott skate she begins her mission. She might as well start in friendly territory, and heads towards the Skate Canada reps.

“Gentlemen,” she says when she slides up beside the three middle aged men.

They turn and stare at her for a moment. She can’t blame them. She hasn’t spoken to them in almost fifteen years. It must be like seeing a ghost.

“Tessa,” Mike recovers first, and offers her his hand. They were almost friends once upon a time. He sounds like he might genuinely mean it when he says, “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to be back.” Is it? The words slip out so easily, they might be true.

“Your skaters look good,” he replies and the men standing with him nod in agreement. He doesn’t bother to introduce them. The skating community is small and everyone knows everyone else, even if they’ve never officially met.

“Don’t they?” she forces the smile into her voice, even if she refuses to let it carry to her face. “I think they’re skating better than they ever have before. Too bad their marks don’t reflect that.”

“You think they should have been higher?” he raises an eyebrow. They’re playing a game.

“I think we all know that, don’t we?” Three heads nod in agreement. “My question is; does the fed have the balls to call them out?”

Three men stare at her again, until Mike laughs. Laughs so hard that several people turn their way.

“Now, there’s the Tessa Virtue I remember.”

He claps her on the back, and she reminds herself who she’s doing this for and doesn’t pull away in horror.

Forty-five minutes and one very productive conversation later, she’s accomplished goal number one. The Canadian Federation is on their side.

She works her magic with the US counterparts during their team’s practise session. They’re equally appalled by their skaters’ marks and are looking for allies. They reach a cautious understanding, but only after she agrees to drinks later in the evening.

She ignores the French entirely.

Her last stop is the Russians. Their fur coats envelop her in hugs that she doesn’t want but understands. The Russians have always loved her, and they love tragedy even more. She works that angle while she thinks about how much her feet hurt in her new shoes. They’re in tears by the time she leaves them, and enraged about the injustice of her skaters’ marks.

She smirks throughout her entire cab ride back to the hotel.

Scott is nervous heading into the free skate. It radiates off him and spreads to Nat, who is never nervous for anything. Her assurances don’t help, so she leaves them. They have to find their peace in each other. But she does give his hand a quick squeeze before she leaves them to it, tries to let him know that everything will be okay with just the touch of her hand.

By the time she sees them again, all the nerves are gone, replaced by the steely determination of the competitors they are. She’s not sure what magic they have over each other, but knows she would do everything in her power to protect it.

They glance her way in unison as they are about to take the ice. Give her the same smile, and then they skate.

They’re brilliant. So in sync that she thinks they must be breathing the same breath. There’s something about adversity that brings out the best in them. As she watches them skate, she thinks for the first time, that she’s glad she and Matthew never had to compete against them.

They’re happy and hopeful as they meet her at the boards, but she can feel the tension rolling over l them both as they leave their bubble and join the real world. Because they have yet to see their marks and that’s the one factor they can’t control.

But she can, or at least she can do her best to control them. She’s confident that she’s done her job as they wait.

And wait.

Scott cracks a joke, and Nat laughs enthusiastically. Partially because she finds him funny, and partially because she finds everything funny when she’s nervous. Years later when she finally admits she’s in love, she’ll laugh hysterically through the whole confession.

Tessa’s face remains inscrutable throughout. The internet is rampant with speculation about what she’s thinking.

What they can’t possibly know, is that she’s temporarily stopped thinking about marks, because Scott has managed to sneak his hand behind her and is stroking a gentle pattern into the skin on her back just above her waist band, where her blouse has come untucked.

And wait.

The audience is getting antsy. They start to stomp and clap along to “We Will Rock You” which is inexplicably playing over the PA system. She can’t tell if it’s enthusiasm for the song or Nat and Scott’s performance.

And finally the marks appear.

Collins and Moir have received a score…

It’s a great score. Possibly higher than it should be, not enough to put them into first place but enough to send a message.

Collins and Moir (and she supposes Virtue too) are back and they are not to be trifled with.

Scott roars and pulls both of them into a side hug. He kisses Nat’s head and she can see in his eyes that he wants to do the same to her, before he reconsiders and jumps up in excitement, pulling a laughing Nat up with him.

The skate Canada trio winks at her as she walks with her skaters to the dressing room. Guess Nat and Scott weren’t the only ones who gave a brilliant performance.

“T,” he drawls when she opens the door to her room to find him lounging against the doorframe, a plastic bag in his hand and a smirk on his face. “When was the last time you had fun?”

“I had fun watching you win the free skate,” she answers after a moment's consideration. It’s been hours since the medal ceremony and she was considering heading to bed, when she heard the knock at the door.

“That’s not what I mean.” He sits down at the foot of her bed and she resists the temptation to run her fingers through his damp hair.

“What do you mean?”

“Fun like when you were a kid. Like when you laugh so hard that your stomach aches, but in the best way.”

She can’t remember the last time she felt like that. Even as a child she was far too serious and as an adult there was always skating.

“Reading is fun,” she offers weakly.

“That makes me very sad.” He shakes his hand, grabs her wrist and pulls her down to sit beside him. “Which is why we’re going to fix that. Tonight. Right now.”

“I don’t think I’m a very fun person.” She’s not sure how to feel about the twinkle in his eyes. Intrigued and terrified all at the same time.

“I think she’s in there. Maybe she’s buried but we’re going to find her, because I am a…very… fun…person.” He punctuates each of his last four words with a kiss. She leans into the kisses a little. “So that’s why we’re going swimming.”

“That’s not where I thought this was leading,” she admits and he lets out a genuine belly laugh. “Swimming?”

“I have anticipated all of your arguments and prepared for this moment.” He shushes her with a finger to her lips and she can’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm, even if the idea of swimming horrifies her.

“I don’t…”

“Have a bathing suit,” he finishes. “I assumed as much and figured that even if you did, you wouldn’t have packed it. So I made Nat take me shopping and bought you one.”

That explains the Simon’s department store bag he’s been clutching since he arrived in her room. He hands it over carefully, and she opens it with more than a little trepidation. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him, but the combination of Nat and Scott deciding on a bathing suit for her is a little concerning. She’s pleasantly surprised to find a long sleeved, black rash guard and a matching pair of board shorts from the bag.

“Nat wanted to buy you a string bikini but I figured this would make you more comfortable. I really just brought her along to help with sizes.”

She runs her hands across the silky fabric of the suit and she wants to do it for him, loves him for trying but…

“There might be other…” It’s one thing to let him see her scars, she can’t possibly let anyone else.

“…people there? I thought about that too, and have talked the management into letting us go swimming after it’s closed for the night. There won’t be anyone else around, including Nat, though she really, really wanted to come.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I am exceptionally charming.” He waggles his eyebrows at her and she giggles again.

“I don’t know,” she says and expels all the air she’s been holding in. She wants to be better for him, but it’s so, so hard.

“I know. I get that.” He takes both her shaking hands in his. “And if you don’t want to, we won’t, but how about you just give it a try?”

“Just try?” She tries to imagine putting on the suit, jumping into the water. It isn’t a horrible picture, it’s almost inviting.

“One step at a time. We can leave at anytime.”

“Ok.” She can do this. She’s already been brave once this week, she might as well do it again.

She puts a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants on over her bathing suit but she still feels naked as she walks through the lobby and towards the pool. The check-in clerk is the only person around and he barely gives her a passing glance, but she can feel her cheeks flame all the same.

Scott is waiting for her just outside the pool area doors and she’s thrilled to discover that you can’t see into the pool from the lobby. They really will be alone.

“You don’t have to do this if you don't want to,” he whispers and starts to move towards her for a hug, but thinks better of it considering they’re in public.

“I can be brave.”

“I know you can.”

He squeezes her hand and opens the door. The smile of childlike anticipation on his face should have given her a clue, but she’s absolutely stunned by what she finds on the other side of the door.

“Nat helped,” he explains.

The hotel pool has been transformed into a bright and colourful tropical location, complete with inflatable palm trees, beach balls, and two giant ice cream-shaped floats in the middle of the pool. There’s a tiki bar over in the corner, with a blender full of what she assumes are virgin margaritas. The music playing from a speaker on one of the lounge chairs switches from Hawaiian luau music to the Beach Boys while she’s standing there.

“Scott,” she breathes, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.

This man and his grand gestures. What is she going to do with him? How can she possibly reciprocate?

“Do you like it?” He smiles at her like a kid at Christmas getting everything he ever asked for, only he’s the one giving the gift.

“You’re too much, Scott Moir.” She kisses him. Hard. “Let’s go swimming.”

She peels off her outer clothing without another thought. If he can do all of this for her, then she can wear a bathing suit and go swimming for him.

When she turns around, he’s already stripped down to his bathing suit and for a moment she’s struck by how beautiful he is. She doesn’t often see him in this little clothing. Their garment optional activities still happen entirely in the dark. So, she lets herself admire him for a minute. The flames of desire lick at her, until she forces herself to turn away and head for the pool.

She eases into the water. One step at a time. It’s surprisingly warm and she could go faster, it’s not the shock to her system she was expecting, but she luxuriates in the feeling and she remembers. She loved the water. Weekends spent at her family cottage, beaches at tropical destinations, pools in backyards and in competition hotels.

The memories overwhelm her, sadden and comfort her. She has to take a few steadying breaths by the time she’s up to her shoulders. But as soon as she does, she feels free and she leans back and floats. Giggles at the feeling of freedom.

She floats for a few minutes to the sound of the Beach Boys “Help Me Rhonda” muffled by the water and the feeling of Scott’s eyes following her. She finally stands up and smiles at him.

“Come on in. The water’s fine,” she says. The low, dare she say, sexy voice that comes out, surprises both of them.

Scott runs across the pool deck, ignoring all the signs warning him not to, and cannonballs into the pool.

The splash he generates is both incredible and hits her full in the face.

And then she starts laughing. She laughs so hard, she loses her footing and plunges butt first into the water. She’s still laughing when he hauls her up from the bottom of the shallow end.

“Yes,” he hisses as he wraps her in a hug.

“This is not a ‘I told you so moment’,” she manages between giggles.

“It most certainly is.” But he doesn’t bother to say it, instead kissing her on the forehead, before he dives away from her, splashing her in the face again.

The splash fight that ensues is epic and full of laughter. When they’re both tired from swimming and laughing, they climb onto the floats and hold hands and drink the virgin margaritas as they float around the pool.

When they both start to feel sleepy, they climb off the floats and she thinks the evening might be over, but he turns up the music and they dance. They mash potato and they do the twist, just like the song says. They dance up against each other and across the room from each other. The belly laughs return when he tries to hula, and continue when he tries to end his performance with a cartwheel and fails, taking out a lounge chair in the process.

They end the night in the hot tub. His arms wound around her, her back pressed to his hard chest, her hands on his thighs. He tells her terrible jokes until she laughs again. He finally lets her climb out, when she admits that her stomach hurts from laughing so much.

He kisses her good night at her door, but returns to his own room.

She drifts off to sleep alone, but more content than she has been in a long time. Possibly more content than she ever has been.

It starts innocently. They're both tired after the gala performance the day after, both from the stress of competition, and their night at the pool. So they sneak into her room to try and catch a nap together.

She climbs into bed wearing only a tank top and a soft pair of cotton underwear. It’s the least she’s ever worn around him but she’s too tired to care and it all feels easier after their time at the pool. When she presses her bare legs against his and it just feels so right, that she knows she’s made the correct decision.

They lay together for awhile, him spooning her from behind, his breath on her hair, as they have so many times before. They’re both half asleep, well on their way to drifting off, when she feels his hand on her ass, one finger slipping just under the lace covering her butt cheek and slowly stroking her there.

His touch is light and feathery, an unconscious movement. But it’s mesmerizing and lights a fire in her that wasn’t there a moment before.

She hums softly and he shifts his hips forward, keeps touching her gently under the lace. Sweeps a little further into her underwear and this time she moans. It’s more sound than she’s allowed herself around him, and his response is immediate.

“Tess?” he asks as his lips find the back of her neck. If there’s a single spot on her body that turns her to jelly, that’s it, and he knows it.

“Keep going.”

“I thought we were going to have a nap,” he teases.

“You probably should have thought of that before you touched my ass.” He groans at her answer. It’s the boldest she’s ever been with him and it breaks something loose in her. Something that started when she began to remember the Tessa from before and allows her to become part of today.

He slips his hand all the way into her underwear, lets his fingers explore the previously forbidden part of her, while still working his magic on her neck.

When he works his way from her ass to her stomach, she pushes back into him and finds him hard and hot against her. Instead of scaring her, it ignites her. She wants to feel him. All of him. In her hands, in her mouth and god she wants to feel him between her legs. Pumping inside her, hot and thick.

She turns in his arms and traps his hand between them, desperately close to where she wants it to be. They find each other’s mouths and kiss with a fervour that had never been there before. Her hands slide under his shirt, trace his abs and chest before she forces it over his head. She wants his skin against her, and pulls her tank top over her head before pressing herself against him.

He groans and works his hand loose from where it’s trapped between her thighs, rolling her onto her back. She drops her legs apart, looking up at him as he makes quick work of her underwear.

The room is much brighter than how she usually keeps it when they’re together in this way and he can see every inch of her. The realization locks her up for a moment. He notices the change instantly.

“T?” his hands still. They’ve stopped in this place many times before.

“Please keep going,” she doesn’t care if he sees her, she just wants him.

He nods and his mouth is on her. Her neck, her chest, working his way down her body as his hands finally, finally find where she wants them most.

She loses track of herself for a moment. All she can do is let herself indulge in his touch. In the way he touches her softly and then with purpose, while he takes her nipple in his mouth. She’s close, so, so close.

“Scott, I…”

“It’s ok.” He pulls her close, works his fingers faster, presses his forehead against hers, worries her lip between his teeth. “Just let go.”

It’s enough to send her over. He holds her as the orgasm takes over her body. Holds her as she comes back to herself.

“That was beautiful,” he says and she can see in his eyes that he means every word. He rolls to her side and strokes her hair, a gentle look on his face.

“Where are you going?” she pulls at him until he’s back on top of her, and is relieved to find that he’s still hard and ready.

“I thought you’d want to stop.”

“I might kill you if you do.” She’s already working his underwear down his hips, and he laughs at her urgency. He stops as soon as she takes him in her hands.

She doesn’t get to explore him for long, before they’re both overwhelmed by the urgency for him to be inside her.

“Are you sure?” he asks, holding himself at her entrance. It’s torture but of the best kind. All she wants is for him to push in, but there’s something so erotic in the way that he feels pressed against her, almost, almost there.

She can only nod, not sure if she’d be able to form words.

He kisses her, looks down at her with such trust and desire that her heart clenches. Starts to push forward and then suddenly stops.

“Shit, T. I don’t have a condom.”

He’s so close that all she has to do is push her hips forward and he’d finally be inside her. It’s hard to think about anything else.

“I…we don’t need one.” She doesn’t want to explain further, doesn't want this all to come crashing down around them, not in this moment. He must sense there’s more to the story, but just nods and brushes a thumb across her cheek before finally easing into her.

It takes her a moment for her to adjust to him. It’s been so long since she was with a man, but she doesn’t waste a thought on the past because she only wants to think about him, about how good he feels. How full she feels with him.

“You can move,” she says, his hands continue to roam across her body. His lips on hers. His heart beating with hers.

He sets a slow pace at first, only picking up speed when she urges him forward with her heels into his ass. And then he moves in earnest, snapping his hips into her, going faster as she starts to meet him with each thrust.

She can feel the orgasm building again, isn’t sure that it ever stopped.

“T, I can’t hold on much longer,” he manages to groan out, as his hips start to sputter, his thrust growing erratic. He reaches between them, his thumb hard on her clit and that’s all it takes. She’s falling over the edge. He’s with her only moments later, coming with a groan that shakes her to the core.

“Well, that was a surprise,” he says after a few minutes, his breathing still unsteady.

She laughs until her stomach hurts and he laughs right along with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rookandpawn1 over on Twitter. Come by and say hi.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile, but hopefully the next chapter will arrive a little quicker. Hope you enjoy and have a very Merry Christmas, Hanuka etc.

“Tell me about him,” he asks out of the blue one Sunday night, in the precious time between Worlds and when he starts touring.

“Matthew?” There could hardly be another him, but she uses the question to steady herself. He nods and she hands him the plate she’s drying before she continues. “What do you want to know?”

He looks at her and blinks. Sometimes words come out of his mouth before he’s had a chance to think them through. She suspects that this one of those times. As if the question had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for a long time and he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Everything,” he answers with an embarrassed shrug.

“We might have to sit down for everything.” She’s been trying this new thing called humour. Turns out he finds her as funny when she’s intentionally trying as when she is by accident.

“Maybe I could think of some questions while we finish drying the dishes?”

“Good because I was wracking my brain trying to decide if his shoe size was relevant and if I could remember what it was.” He wore a size ten. Certain pieces of information are forever etched in her brain, while some have started to fade away. She’d gladly trade the memory of his shoe size, in exchange for how his arms felt around her. How his eyes looked when he said “I love you”.

They finish the dishes in silence, and take a seat at opposite ends of the couch. There’s an uneasiness that hangs over them that she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ve never been in love before,” he says after a deep breath.

It’s a lot to process. 

The idea that he’s never been in love shocks her. But once she rolls the idea around in her head she supposes it makes sense. He’s never talked about lost love, rarely mentions any of the women he’s dated except in passing. Still, the information makes her sad. Everyone should get to experience being in love. The heartbreak of losing love is indescribable but somehow survivable. But being in love, and loving back is the greatest thing she’s ever done. She wants that for him.

“I have,” she answers because she doesn’t know what else to say.

“I know. I saw you two together.” She always forgets that he competed in Juniors when she was skating with Matthew. “I may have been a cocky, teenaged asshole but I knew two people in love when I saw them.”

“He was a good man.” It’s the best way, possibly the only way, to describe Matthew. He was a good man. Kind and generous. He didn't have the same drive as her, the same passion, but he balanced her in a way she needed. Taught her patience and balance. “He was perfect for me then.”

“Not now?” he asks, looking at her through his eyelashes.

“Not now. I’m not the same person I was before.” She moves closer to him, takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. He relaxes a little.

After a few hand squeezes, he pulls her into a hug, urges her to rest her head on his shoulder. “How did you know you were in love with him?”

It’s an interesting question. She and Matthew had been skating together since they were children, had been at the same rink together even longer. He’d always been a part of her life, and she supposes she’d always loved him. He was the kind of person who was hard not to love.

“I wish there were some magical moment that I could point to, but there wasn’t.”

“Then how did you know?” The answer seems urgently important to him, so she searches the painful part of her memory where she doesn’t let her mind go every often.

“It happened in pieces. I always loved him but as a best friend, the best of friends.” And as a sort of permanent part of her life. Not like family, she never saw him as a brother, but as someone who had always been there, would always be there. “And then one day I realized I wanted to kiss him, and it was the strangest feeling.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty.”

“So, not a…” he can’t finish, the embarrassment that paints his cheeks is both attractive and adorable.

“A virgin? Far from it.” Once she’d discovered sex, she’d been quite a fan. “ I’d had several boyfriends. He’d had a couple girlfriends. One who was fairly serious. They broke up and everything was normal and then one day bam, I wanted him to kiss me.”

The idea had been so foreign at the time that she’d laughed out loud when it happened. She didn’t think about him like that and then suddenly she did.

“It took him longer to realize he wanted kiss me.”

The old Tessa hadn’t known how to speak up for herself. How to just tell him how she’d felt. So she’d waited out another girlfriend, Amanda, who she couldn’t help but like, all while she hated her.

“When did he?” His voice is still stilted, not quite normal.

“After we won our first Worlds, I got really drunk...”

She remembers that night. How even though she was thrilled, thrilled to finally win, all she could think about when their scores were announced, during the medal ceremony, at the party after, was that she wanted him to kiss her. Not on the cheek or the top of her head, but a real kiss. Maybe if he did, she could finally get him out of her system.

But he never looked at her like that. Not once. So she found another guy. A pairs skater from Russia, who was tall and handsome and knew four words of English. But he did look at her like that. She got drunk and she kissed him. Got sloppy drunk and made out with him on the dance floor and on a chair near the dance floor, until Matthew grabbed her and pulled her out of his lap.

“You’re too drunk for this,” he’d said as he dragged her away.

She refused to speak to him until they were at his room, even though he’d kept up a monologue through the entire walk to her room.

“I just don’t know what gets into you sometimes. Why him?” he asked as he opened the door and manhandled her to the bed.

“Because you won’t kiss me,” she spit back and instantly regretted it.

The flurry of emotions that crossed his face made her regret it even more. Then he opened and closed his mouth twice, shook his head and walked out the door. The last thing she remembered was embarrassment flashing through every part of her body before she gave up and passed out.

She woke up to the sound of someone pounding on her door. The pounding on the door took the the same rhythm as the pounding in her head, so it took her awhile to put two and two together and open the door.

“I didn’t even know that was an option!” he yelled and then walked away.

After catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she decided a shower and some painkillers were in order before any further discussion. She found him an hour later in his room. He looked like he’d barely slept, his normally perfectly styled hair was a mess and his eyes were rimmed with red.

“Do you want it to be? An option?” she asked.

“I think I do.”

They talked about it. How it was probably a terrible idea. How it might ruin their friendship and their partnership. Agreed that they should never kiss, should just forget the conversation ever happened.

But then they kissed anyway.

“And then we were together and it didn’t ruin everything. It made everything better,” she explains. She can hear his heart beating under where her ear rests. The rhythm is reassuring.

“I can’t imagine you doing any of that.” There’s a fond smile on Scott’s face.

“I’m not the same person.” The accident that changed her fundamentally, but even without it, being with Matthew helped settle her.

“Did you want to marry him?” he asks her as they’re getting ready for bed. She and Matthew never used to go to sleep at the same time. He was a morning person and she was a night owl, but she likes going to sleep with Scott. Likes the feel of his arms around her, of his solid warm against hers.

“I wanted everything with him.” She’d walked around with a perfect picture of the rest of their lives together. Win the Olympics, get married, have two or three children. Matthew was thinking about going into politics when they retired and she was thinking about something in fashion. She knew exactly what her future was going to look like, until she didn’t. “He asked me to marry him all the time.”

It was almost a game for him after a while. He’d ask her casually over breakfast, in the shower, during programs he’d whisper it in her ear, or sometimes the invitation would come at the height of passion, tumbling from his lips as they fell over the edge.

“But we were waiting until after the Olympics for a real proposal.” 

“I know it’s silly to be jealous…” he says as leans on the doorframe and watches her clean and dry her face. He looks almost boyish in his v-necked t-shirt and pyjama pants, his hair tousled in a way that could never be intentionally recreated. It’s in moments like this she’s reminded that he really is quite a bit younger than her. 

It’s also in these moments that she doesn’t care. He’s so casually sexy. So in control and open and she wants him very, very badly. 

“I’m jealous of every woman who came before me.” She presses a kiss to his lips.

“None of them meant anything to me the way you do.” He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close, nuzzles her neck with his nose. “No one ever could.”

It’s a beautiful sentiment, and she know he means every word, but she once thought the same about Matthew. She never would have thought she’d have room in her heart for another man, but now there’s Scott and he’s woven his way around her in a way that Matthew never did.

He presses soft kisses along her neck and she wants to be distracted, has willingly been distracted by him ever since that night at Worlds. But there’s a lot more to this conversation, something that she’s been avoiding and really can’t anymore. So she loosens herself from his embrace and sits down on the bed, and waits for him to join her.

“Ask me.” The question has been hanging over them for weeks, both of them hesitant to ask and answer. 

“Children?” he asks finally.

She has to take a deep breath, force the answer out of her mouth because she knows the answer could push him away forever. She so desperately doesn’t want to lose him, not after she’s finally fully found him, but he deserves the truth and the sooner, the better.

“I can’t.” Her voice cracks at the admission. She forces back the tears that threaten to spill. She mourned all of this a long time ago, she refuses to do so again.

He takes her hand, gives it a squeeze. “I thought maybe that’s what you were trying to tell me.”

“The surgery was extensive. I’m lucky to be alive.” but somethings had to be sacrificed.

“But there are other…” she won’t let him finish, because this is the moment she feared, the moment that could end them. Should, if he has any sense at all.

“I don’t want to.” His face falls and he corrects almost instantly, but she sees it. Catalogues it away for later. “I’m almost forty and I just, just don’t… I don’t have room.”

In her life, in her heart, in her head. She could barely make room for him. She doesn’t have anything left to give.

“It’s ok.” He pulls her close. She lets herself sink into his arms, wonders if it might be the last time. “All I need is you.”

“You can’t mean that.” He can’t. She’s seen him with children. He was meant to be a father.

He pulls back, takes her chin in his hand and says, “T, I love you.”

“I love you too,” The words fly out of her mouth. The easiest thing she’s ever said.

They grab each other into a hug, whisper words of adoration into each other’s ears. Undress each other and remember the other things they love about each other.

“I love you,” he breathes into her ear, as he falls asleep.

She believes him when he says she’s all he needs, she just hopes that it will always be true. Someday she might have to let him go. 

For his own good.

She blames loneliness for all her decisions. 

She wasn’t expecting to miss him when he and Nat leave for Japan to tour. She’s spent the last twelve years of her life comfortably alone and she expects easily to be able to slip back into solitude. Turns out Scott has infiltrated his way into every aspect of her life and the joy she found in being alone doesn’t exist anymore.

So when Pierre and CiCi the junior team that she did choreography for finally work up the courage to ask her to be her coach she says yes without thinking about how she doesn’t like spending time with people. She’s still trying to recover from her lapse in judgement when Marie pulls a sneak attack and asks if she’ll take on the new team that have newly arrived from Poland. And just like that she becomes the coach of three teams.

She makes both teams cry on their first day and that makes her miss Scott and Nat all the more, because she doesn’t have to apologize for her abrupt words and lack of social skills to them. She shouldn’t have to apologize but she does and vows to better. Not because she wants to but because she knows that her primary team would be disappointed in her if she didn’t.

There’s not much she can do while he’s touring through Asia. The seventeen hour time change is challenging and they never seem to have free time at the same time. She cherishes the moments they get to FaceTime but she misses his physical presence in her life. So much so, that she makes the ridiculous decision to invite her sister for a visit.

They haven’t spoken in several months and their last conversation was cursory at best, so she’s surprised when Jordan says yes without hesitation.

“When did you buy a house?” her sister asks as she puts her bag down in the entryway.

“October.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Jordan asks as she schools her features. She appreciates how much Jordan tries to hide her disappointment in how terrible a sister she is.

“No.”

“Well, I like it.” Jordan shakes her head but links arms with her. “Show me around.”

The tour doesn’t take long, it’s still a tiny house, and she ends with the guest room where she’s put a bouquet of Jordan’s favourite flowers. The smile she earns makes the last minute trip worth while.

They stay in for dinner, she’s still not comfortable eating in public, and Tessa tries her best to catch up on her sister’s life. It’s a struggle at first but eventually she finds she’s genuinely interested in hearing about her life as a lawyer, how she’s started teaching barre classes and how she's tried out several men but hasn’t found one she likes.

“Are we going to talk about who lives here with you?” Jordan asks when they’re sitting on the couch with tea after dinner.

“Do we have to?” She thought she’d hidden all traces of Scott but her sister is both smart and observant. “How did you know?”

“There’s evidence everywhere, but I can tell… Tessa, you look like you’re in love.”

“I am,” she admits, only because her red cheeks give her away.

“Is it Scott?”

“How?”

“The way you look at each other. No one else can tell, but I can.”

She just nods. It’s amazing that no matter how much distance there is between them, Jordan could always read her like a book.

“He’s a lot younger than you.” She could always get to the heart of the matter too. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Maybe.” 

“But you’re willing to take the chance anyway?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Jordan’s answer and the hug that follows surprise her.

She can’t help the tears that come as she hugs back.

Jordan and her teasing and insistence that they take advantage of all that Montreal has to offer keep her distracted for a few days. For the first time in a long time, she’s sad to see her go. Jordan promises to come visit over the summer, because Tessa’s not quite ready to visit Toronto or her family in London.

The new teams keep her busy but she still misses him enough that she looks up the cost of a ticket to Japan. She hastily closes the browser, when she sees the outrageous cost flash before her. Instead, she FaceTimes him even though there’s almost no chance he’s available.

He answers just as she’s about to give up, he’s not wearing a shirt and his hair is wet. 

“This is a nice surprise,” he says as he towels his hair. 

Between his smile and his chest she gets distracted and it takes her a moment to form a sentence. “I wasn’t sure you’d be there.”

“A bunch of the guys are going golfing, but, I don’t know…” he sighs and pulls on a shirt. She can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. “I just feel so old sometimes.”

“You’re not even thirty,”

“I feel older.” He settles onto his hotel bed and so she does the same on theirs.

“You’ve lived a little more life than most,” she says. He’s an old soul despite his sometimes boyish ways.

“That must be it.” She shifts and moves her hair from one side to the other. His eyes track her movements, lingering on the swell of her breasts. She arches a little for his benefit and he raises an eyebrow in appreciation.

“How’s Nat?”

“She broke up with the massage therapist.”

“But we liked him.” She really did like James, who had a nice calming effect on Nat. “What happened?”

“She says he was too demanding, but I think she wasn’t ready for him,” he says with a shrug, and runs his hand up his torso, pulling his shirt up in the process. “She drowning her sorrows in Olga, one of the pairs skaters.”

“Is she ok?”

“If the number of times, I’ve caught them naked is any indication, she’s just fine.”

Sometimes she wonders if they’re Nat’s friends or her parents.

“I miss you,” she sighs. She hadn’t meant to say it, doesn't want to seem needy, but she can’t help the words.

“God, I miss you so much, T.” His answer comes almost on top of her confession.

“It’s harder than I thought,” the tears that choke her throat, surprise her, but she lets them fall because she doesn’t hide anything from him anymore.

“Oh, baby, don’t cry. I’ll be home soon.” 

“I’m sorry.” She hates this side of her. The side that needs things.

“Don’t you dare apologize. I love that you miss me.” She’s not the only one crying.

“How many more days?” she whispers, lets her thumb caress the spot on her iPad where his face is. It’s cold and metallic, a poor substitution for the real thing, but it makes her feel a little closer to him.

“Only three,” he whispers back. Three days until he leaves, four until he’s home. She can do it. “We can do it.”

He won’t be home long before he’ll be off again for Stars on Ice for a month and then back to Korea and Japan, but there’s no point in dwelling on that. She’s not sure how she’ll get through all that time when she’s barely been able to get through two weeks.

“At least, when you’re doing Stars on Ice, we’ll be in the same time zone.” She tries to find the silver lining.

“And maybe you can come visit.” His voice is low and husky and her mind instantly goes to the same place his already is.

“I think that can be arranged.” She barely recognizes the sexy tenor of her voice, hasn’t had that seductive tone in a very long time.

“You’re killing me.”

“Only four more days.”

“Only four more days,” he echoes. “You should go to sleep.”

It’s late, she has to be at the rink early, and she’s not sure if she’s ready for the direction the conversation is heading.

“I should. I have to coach in the morning.”

“Be nice to your teams,” he says with a laugh.

“They wouldn’t know what to do if I was.” 

His laugh is the last thing she hears as she ends the call.

She tries to be nice to her other teams, she really does, but the more she tries, the more confused everyone ends up. Her attempt at nice comes out as terrifying, and by the second day everyone is either crying or about to. She goes back to her normal self on the third day, everyone is relieved. 

Or possibly they just sense her mood. Because Scott is finally, finally coming home.

But on day four she’s in the best mood. Because he’s coming home, he’s coming home and she’s going to indulge every moment until he leaves again. 

She sends her teams home early. They look at her like she’s been replaced with a alien She goes home and has a long bath and actually attempts all the beauty rituals that used to be a part of her everyday life. She knows he won’t care, but she’s doing it for her. She wants to feel beautiful for him.

She spends time on her hair and make up. Fished the green lingerie set out of the bottom of her drawer where it’s been hidden since they returned from Worlds. She’d been too embarrassed to wear it but tonight she’s going to be brave. 

She slips the silk onto her body, she loves the way it caresses her skin. She used to allow herself this luxury all the time, why did she ever stop? It seems silly to put on sweatpants, but she can hardly sit around in her underwear, especially a pair this brief. She finds an old silk robe in the back of her closet, she was sure she threw away. It smells faintly of her old life. She lets herself live in the past for a few moments, before slipping in on her shoulders.

They decided that she wouldn’t pick him up from the airport. She could have, she’d been using his car while he was gone, but ever since his win at Worlds there always seemed to be a camera on him. While they were a bit of an open secret in the skating world, neither of them were interested in having the whole world know about their relationship. She worried what people would think, how it would effect his and Nat’s chances going forward. He doesn’t care if people knew, would probably shout it from the rooftops if she let him, but also acknowledges there’s a game to be played. He’ll play it if it means a gold medal. They all will.

She’s dozing a bit, when she hears the key in the lock, she’s instantly awake.

“I’m home and I’m exhaust…” he calls but stops as soon as he sees her standing there. “Holy shit, you look amazing.”

She can feel a blush creep across her chest, paint her cheeks. She’s not sure any man has ever looked at her quite the way he is.

“Is there anything under that robe?” he manages to finally stutter out after two failed attempts.

“Why don’t you come here and find out?”

He drops everything he’s holding. Keys, luggage, the newspaper all tumble to the floor as he crosses the room in three purposeful strides. He kisses her hard, putting all the lost time into his kiss, leaving her breathless and aching. When he’s done, when she’s thoroughly and completely kissed, he takes a step back and looks her over. 

“You look so fucking good,” he whispers, before he reaches out and pulls the knot out of her belt and lets her robe fall open just enough to hint at what’s underneath. With a raised eyebrow, he parts the robe slowly, his fingers just brushing her skin, before he slips it off her shoulders and lets it fall to the floor.

“These are really, really good,” he says eyeing her lingerie, his hands in fists at his side as if he's trying desperately control himself.

“You approve?”

“I really, really approve.” He allows one finger to tease her shoulder strap. “You should go out and buy more immediately.”

“Immediately?” She places no restrictions on her hands and uses them to start removing his jacket.

“There’s a few things I need to do first. Give me an hour.”

“An hour?” she asks as he steps forward and his lips find her neck.

“I have a lot of time to make up for.”

“Scott, you should stop talking now.” She takes his hand away from her strap and plants it firmly on her breast. Ends any further discussion with a kiss.

They haven’t had sex that many times. Time has been limited and neither of them are that young anymore. The times it has happened, he’s let her lead the way, understood when she’d been tentative and unsure. 

She isn’t sure what’s different, the time, the distance or the lingerie, but she feels anything but tentative as runs her hands down his back and explores his ass. It’s a thing of beauty, his ass, and he moans into her mouth as she shows her appreciation. Unfortunately, she’ll have to save any further appreciation for later, because she really, desperately needs to get him out of his clothes.

They manage to continue kissing while she removes his jacket, undoes his belt and takes care of his pants, even while he toes off his shoes. They’re both stymied by their attempts to remove his t-shirt.

“T-shirts are for boys,” she likes undoing buttons, revealing him piece by piece.

“You like the way I look in a t-shirt,” he says as he nips at her lip. He’s not wrong. She very much appreciates the way a t-shirt pulls across his chest and arms.

She just shrugs, kisses him again, and tears the shirt over his head. He cocks one eyebrow at her, before planting a hand on each of her ass cheeks and picking her up off the floor. Without thinking, all those years of ice dance training kick in and she wraps her legs around his waist. She knew he was strong, how could she have missed it, but she’s impressed with how easily he carries her to the bedroom. Once they reach the bedroom, he deliberately slides her down his body, letting her feel how hard and ready he is for her. She’d planned to take her time with him, but all she can think about is how badly she wants him, how very, very good he’ll feel inside her.

His boxer briefs are at eye level, so she has no choice but to ease them down his hips.

“Are we in a hurry?” he asks as she eyes him in all his glory. She considers taking him in her mouth, something she hasn’t been ready for before, but needs him elsewhere too urgently.

“I think we might be.”

“Thank god.” 

He kisses his way down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, down her stomach, before laying her down and kneeling between her parted thighs. Once he’s situated, he eases her legs a little further apart and runs a finger down her and she groans in response.

“Baby, the noises you make.”

She doesn’t have a chance to respond, as he’s on her, tonguing her through the satin that covers her, until finally he tugs them off, and tosses them over his shoulder. She’d laugh if only his mouth wasn't so incredibly distracting, alternating between hard and soft, pushing her further and further. She held back, the first time they did this, embarrassed by the sounds coming from her throat, until she realized they spurned him forward. This time she doesn’t hold anything back, can’t really, because that man’s tongue is a gift. His fingers urging her forward, until she comes with a shout.

“Well, fuck,” she says when she comes back to herself to discover him laying beside her, stroking her shoulder, an all too satisfied grin on his face.

“Yes please,” he agrees, and thrust his cock into her hip, just to make his point clear. 

She gives herself thirty seconds to catch her breath, to steady her legs, before she takes charge again, guiding him to lay down the centre of the bed, where she sinks onto him without preamble. The both sigh as she settles, and he reaches up stroke her face.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

“You have no idea,” she whispers back, and plants her hands on his chest. The hard muscle is tantalizing but the faint beating of his heart she can feel through her palm is home.

She winks at him and starts to slowly fuck him.

“I also really love your breasts,” he says as he fingers a nipple through her bra, his breath growing more laboured, the harder she works. “Every single thing about them, including how fucking fantastic they look in that bra.”

“Do you want me to leave it on?”

“So, very much.”

They can’t talk after that, lost to the rhythm of his hips, snapping up to meet hers, grinding down on his. His hands are everywhere, her hair, her back, her breasts. They’re both sweating and slick and she can’t think can only feel.

“So close,” he groans, barely coherent and finds her clit with his thumb, sends her over the edge in three hard strokes, before following her a few erratic thrust later. He groans into her ear as he comes and she thinks she’s never heard a sweeter noise.

“I should go away more often, if that’s what it’s going to be like when I come home,” he says much later, when they’re snuggled into each other, half way asleep.

“I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Me too.”

They both know he has to leave again soon, so they cling to the moments they have. Hold them like the precious gift they are, close to their hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It fills me with joy when people leave a comment. Or come by Twitter and say hi, where I'm @rookandpawn1.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an interesting chapter to write and was giving me all kinds of trouble until Walkinrobe started asking me questions and then I knew exactly what to do. She says I have to give her all the credit. So this is me, giving her credit, I guess.
> 
> Also, so much thanks as always to LPM who takes time out of her busy schedule to edit this so it makes sense and isn't riddled with errors.

She doesn’t know why she’s nervous to ask him. He’s never denied her anything before, but still she’s unsure and puts off the question for far longer than she should.

He’s back from touring and taking a vacation break at their home and building bookshelves, while she keeps working at the rink. Everyday she leaves for work and promises herself she will talk to him. Every night she comes home and swears she’ll work up the courage the next day.

“You want to tell me what’s on your mind?” he asks when she climbs into bed. He’s been laying in the bed reading a book for the last hour while she’d been watching practice footage, hoping he’d fall asleep so she’d have an excuse for not talking to him.

“What makes you think there’s something on my mind?”

“Because you get a very cute wrinkle between your eyes when you’re thinking too hard.” He taps the spot and she tries very hard to relax her face. No easy task when you’ve spent the last fifteen years frowning. “And you talk in your sleep.”

“I do not!” She hits him. “You talk in your sleep.”

Mumbles really, and it gets worse when he’s stressed out. He’s been practically silent since his return from touring, but he’d been a motormouth leading up to Worlds.

“I would really like it if you would tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s not wrong exactly, but it’s not really right either.” She jumps out of bed and starts pacing the room. She’s behaving like a child, and she knows it, but she can’t quite stop.

“You’re scaring me a little.”

“It’s just next week is the anniversary of Matthew’s death and I always go to visit his parents and to see his grave and I was wondering if you could come with me,” her words fall out of her mouth in one big breath. “But I’d totally understand if you don’t want to. Never mind. It’s stupid.”

She sits down on the edge of the bed with a thud, collapsing under the weight of all her anxiety. Her hands are shaking and she feels like throwing up. God, she wishes her body would behave when her brain goes off the rails.

“Of course, I’ll go with you,” he says as crawls across the bed and wraps his arms around her. “You’re shaking. ”

“I haven’t been feeling great.”

“Have you been keeping up with your meds?” he asks carefully, because even though she asked him to keep an eye on it, she gets mad at him sometimes for bringing it up.

“I haven’t been on top of at that either, no.”

“Do you want me to remind you?”

“No, I’ll turn the alarm on my phone back on.” She used to take her meds like clockwork because it was a part of the carefully crafted and regulated routine of her life. But that routine has been blown apart since he walked into her life. She’s not sorry to see the unyielding way she was living dissolve a piece at a time, but it did have its benefits.

He nods and tightens his embrace.

“I remember more the closer it gets.” Remembers the moments before his death, and then after. How badly she wished it was her who was dead as she laid in the hospital bed in those dark, dark days after.

  
_She doesn’t remember the first time she woke up after the bombing. She doesn’t remember the first five times, during which, according to her mother, she was only awake for a minute or so. But she remembers vaguely feeling present and also lost in a dream._

_“Mom?” she manages to get out. She recognizes Kate’s perfume, because her eyes refuse to focus._

_“Tessa, I’m right here.” Her mother grabs her hand and she starts to become aware of her body. The pulling in her face, the gauze on her hands, the way that she thinks she supposed to be in pain, can feel that she is, but doesn’t care._

_“Where’s Matthew?” She can’t quite remember what happened, but she knows something did._

_“He’s…” her mother chokes on her words, but she’s already too sleepy to ask why. “He’s not here right now.”_

_“When he gets here, can you tell him I love him,” she manages before her tongue is too thick to talk and she drifts away again._

“We can talk about it if you want,” Scott says, pulling her back to reality. He’s sitting beside her and holding her hand, so she must have retreated into herself for awhile.

“I’m so tired of talking about it.” Years of talking about it in individual therapy, group therapy and with her family, none of it has made a bit of difference. She feels better not talking about it, not having to relive every single fucking moment, every goddamn day.

“Then we don’t have to talk about it.” He pats her knee and smiles.

“Are you sure you want to come with me?” She wants him there, desperately so, but it’s going to be a lot. He gives her a hurt look. “I’ve never brought anyone…especially a man, and Matthew’s parents are…” 

She’s not sure how to describe his parents. They were lovely people, are lovely people, but Matthew was an only child and they were every invested in his life and his skating. When he died, their lives just stopped, the same way hers did. She’s not sure how they’ll react to it starting again.

“So, we’ll get through it together and if you need me to leave, I will.”

She couldn’t love this man more if she tried. 

“That sounds… good. Let’s go to sleep.” She didn’t realize how tired she was. Not talking to him has been exhausting.

“Did you take your meds?” he asks as she stands up, a knowing look on his face.

She allows herself the indulgence of stroking his face, before heading into the kitchen.

  
Matthew’s parents still live in the same too large house they always have. She’s not sure why, but every year she expects them to have moved and every year, it’s still the same house. She imagines it must be something of a burden for them now, they’re both in their sixties, but it looks as well maintained as always.

Scott immediately undoes his seatbelt after he puts the car in park. He starts to get out of the car, but she’s frozen in place, can feel the beginnings of a panic attack coursing through her body, even though her mind tells it to stop.

She wants to flee and hide all at the same time, as sweat starts to pool at her hairline, and it gets harder and harder to breathe, because there isn’t enough air in the car. She makes her hand move to the door handle, to claw at it to get it open, but her legs are starting to shake and…

“It’s okay, love, just breathe with me.” His voice breaks through the haze, and the slow in and out of his breath starts to pull her back. “Tessa, tell me five things you can see.”

“Um.” It’s hard to answer because her vision is blurry and she can’t breathe. She has to concentrate very hard. “The glove compartment, my ring, my blue pants, the sky, Matthew’s house.”

“Now, four things you can touch.” His voice is at her ear, his hand on her shoulder. It was the first place he ever touched her and he goes back there, whenever she gets like this.

She touches the glass on the window, the steering wheel, her coffee mug and and his hand.

They go through three things she can hear, two things she can smell, that one always makes her giggle a little. She’s mostly back to calm by the time he asks her “one thing you can taste.”

“Do I have coffee breath?” she asks, because that’s all she can taste.

“I have gum.” She gives him a look, and he adds “And some mints.”

It’s one of the few things about him that she finds annoying, his preference for chomping on gum whenever possible.

“Where did you learn that?” she asks, as she takes the mint. She likes the way the bite of the peppermint feels in her mouth.

He just shrugs. She doesn’t press for more.

She takes a few more minutes to steady her breath, get her heart under control before she opens the car door and steps out.

Once they’re standing on the porch, she can’t decide if she should hold his hand. She reaches for it, pulls away, reaches for it again, before finally grabbing it, just as the door opens.

“Tessa!” Shirley’s greeting is as enthusiastic as ever.

“You look wonderful” she says and means it. Shirley really has aged remarkably well in the last few years, especially considering how quickly she aged after Matthew’s death. Tessa can tell she wants to hug her but is holding back.

“Oh, so do you!”

“Thank you,” she answers, fighting the urge to argue.

“And this must be your friend.” Shirley’s smile takes over her whole face, until she turns to Scott. It drops for just a moment as she recognizes him but is back in place almost instantly. “Scott, how lovely, we didn’t realize you were Tessa’s friend. Come in, come in.”

They’ve done a bit of a renovation, Tessa realizes, as they follow Shirley into the living room where she has tea and cookies waiting. There’s something amazingly comforting in the sameness of Shirley, but something hopeful about the changes she sees around her.

“Where’s Jimmy?” she asks when they’re sat down on the couch. She and Scott get the new one, Shirley takes the one that’s been in the living room since Tessa was ten.

“You know him, out in the backyard until someone forces him inside. I’m sure he’ll be in in a minute, unless your car needs washing, and then that’s where we’ll find him.”

They chat amiably for awhile, and she thinks that Shirley seems better than she did the last time they saw one another. Or maybe she’s just better and missed Shirley healing all along.

“You had a great comeback season, Scott,” Shirley says after they’ve exhausted pleasantries.

“Hard not to when you have a partner like Nat and a coach like T,” he gives her hand a squeeze and they both watch as Shirley’s eyes linger on their handhold.

“I was so happy when I heard you’d taken on a team. Matthew always said you’d be an amazing coach one day.”

“He did?” He certainly never told her.

“He did, but then, Matthew thought you could do anything you set your mind too. He always knew you’d be a superstar,” Shirley says with a smile.

“He was right,” Scott says under his breath, almost as if he hadn’t meant to.

“Well,” Shirley runs her hands down her thighs and stands up. “It’s getting late, so I’ll just fetch Jimmy from the backyard and we can be on our way.”

“Am I making her uncomfortable?” he asks as soon as Shirley has let herself out through the sliding glass doors to the backyard. “I’m not sure how to act.”

“Well, that makes two of us and you’re the one who can usually be counted on in these situations.”

He chuckles and she allows herself a moment of pride that she successfully made a joke. The moment passes quickly though because Shirley is the last person she’d ever want to upset.

_She hates the haze the drugs make her feel, but the brief time that she was allowed to experience the pain her body is in, was enough to convince her that the haze is better. Some of the burns don’t hurt at all, they’re so severe that the nerves have been damaged. The same with her face, where they took the shrapnel out. She can’t feel anything below her eye on the left side. The lack of pain is a gift, but she’s too terrified to see the damage for herself. The burns on her legs are responsible for the majority of her pain. The surgery they did on her hip makes up the rest. They’re only second degree, and luckily didn’t require skin grafts, but the pain is unbearable anytime the meds wear off. The days, hours and minutes all blend together and she’s never really sure how much time has passed._

_“Can I come in?” Shirley asks from the doorway. She looks tired and sad._

_“Please.” She watches as Shirley takes in all her injuries, the gauze on her face, her body, the IV. Shirley does everything she can to keep her face neutral, but she can see the horror in her eyes._

_“How is Matthew?” Her mother has been avoiding the question, but she knows he must be in bad shape. He was covering her when the bomb hit and must have taken most of the force of the blast. And she knows that if there were any way for him to be at her side, he would be._

_“Oh, honey,” Big, fat tears well up in Shirley’s eyes. “Has no one told you?”_

_“Told me what?” Panic starts to well up side her, claw at her throat._

_“Matthew didn’t make it. He’s gone,” she whispers. Holds onto the fingers of Tessa’s hand that isn’t burnt, tries to avoid disturbing the IV._

_A sound comes out of her. This loud awful sound that she’s never heard before and didn’t know she was capable of making. It doesn’t last long. Nurses come running in the room, and before she knows what’s happening, the world is dark again._

  
“T?” he whispers, strokes a finger across her collar bone, once, twice, three times and she feels grounded again. “Where’d you go?”

“I’m here.”

“Glad to have you back,” he jokes.

“I would never want to hurt her,” she explains. “She was the only one who told me the truth.”

She doesn’t have time to elaborate because Jimmy comes charging into the house, a giant smile painting his face at the sight of her.

“Tess!” he yells, and she can tell he wants to hug her, is dying to, from the way his arms twitch at his sides. He was always been a big hugger, but has respected her desire not to be touched since the first anniversary of Matthew’s death. It’s hard for her to look at him, because he’s an older version of his son. Almost as if Shirley’s DNA wasn’t a factor in his creation. The same easy smile, and kind eyes. But it’s his hands that always trip her up. They are the same hands that held hers all those years, that comforted and loved her.

She takes a deep breath, and squeezes Scott’s hand, before she goes over to Jimmy and wraps her arms around him. It’s still difficult and she has to resist the urge to pull away. As soon as he gets over the shock of what’s happening, Jimmy pulls her closer and hugs her tighter. The tighter he hugs, strangely, the easier it is.

“Well,” Shirley says, tears forming in her eyes. She looks at Scott and smiles before continuing. “Why don’t we head out.”

“Great idea,” Jimmy agrees and pats Tessa on the head before he lets her go. She immediately turns and gives Shirley a quick hug. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen the older woman happier.

  
They take separate cars to the graveyard. Tessa’s relieved for the break. As much as she loves Matthew’s parents and that they’ve found a way back to each other, she’s feeling overwhelmed and needs the quiet comfort of Scott.

He doesn’t say anything until they arrive at the cemetery, she thinks as much for him as for her. He’s not the same person when they’re alone, as he is when he’s in public. She thinks people would be surprised to learn that the private Scott Moir is quite the introvert. 

“Do you want me to wait here?” he voices the question that’s been running through her head for the entire ride.

“I think so.” She fights the urge to apologize, he doesn’t need or want one. Her suspicions are confirmed, when he nods and presses a kiss to her cheek. 

Jimmy and Shirley are already at the grave site when she arrives, their arms wrapped around each other, Shirley’s head resting on his shoulder. They wait while she puts her bouquet of flowers next to theirs. She never comes to visit except on this occasion, but she knows they must from how well maintained the site is.

She runs her fingers over the inscription:

**Matthew Walters, son and partner**

She’s always been so grateful for the partner part.

“He would be forty-four now,” Shirley says, and shades her eyes from the sun. It’s a warm June day and Tessa feels uncomfortable in her long sleeved blouse.

They reminisce for a little while. Shirley tells the same stories she has for years about Matthew’s childhood, but also finds a few new ones.

“It’s hard to imagine him as anything but a young man,” Jimmy adds.

Hard for her to imagine too, but sometimes she thinks that’s a blessing. She gets to keep him forever in her heart as the young man she loved, but she can set him free, because he wouldn’t have fit into her life now.

“Will you and Scott join us for lunch?” Jimmy asks as they walk back towards the cars. Scott is lounging against the hood of his car, his face tipped up towards the sun, his eyes closed, a contented look on his face. Her heart leaps for him. She’s never felt a pull like this to someone before. He’s her true north.

“That wouldn’t make you uncomfortable?”

“I’m not going to lie, dear.” Shirley says as she glances at Jimmy, who nods his encouragement. “I was a little taken aback when I first realized who he was.”

Tessa and Jimmy both nod.

“And it did feel a little like you were trying to replace Matthew, but we just want you to be happy and he obviously makes you very happy.”

“We haven’t seen your smile in years,” Jimmy says and there’s a catch in his voice that goes straight to her heart.

“I love you both very much.” The words surprise all three of them, but once she gets over the shock, she hugs them both.

Scott is his usual charming self at lunch and might be Jimmy’s new best friend by the end of it. And she suspects that Shirley is completely over any hesitation she has, by the way she insists that they come visit next time they’re in town. They part with hugs and even though she’s exhausted by the visit, she feels like she might be able to conquer something else.

“Ready to head home?” he asks as kisses her hand.

“Would you be up for another stop? We might not be able to make it home tonight.”

They still have a long drive ahead of them, but she thinks she might not have the courage for the trip she wants to make, if she doesn’t do it now.

“I’m intrigued.” He raises an eyebrow at her and she laughs because she finds his eyebrows funny.

“I just have to make a phone call first.”

“I’m just here to be your chauffeur, you set the itinerary.” He gives her an exaggerated wink and she laughs again.

She tries to take her good mood into her phone call, because she’s going to need it.

“Tessa,” her mother doesn’t even try to keep the surprise out of her voice as she answers the phone.

They’ve had a hard time speaking to each other ever since she moved to Montreal.

_“It’s not a good idea,” Kate insists, following her through the house as she decides what to pack. “You had a panic attack, yesterday.”_

_She takes a deep breath and tries not to direct all her anger at her mother._

_“The medication is working. That was the first time in weeks.” She really doesn’t want to pack anything, just wants to forget the old Tessa ever existed._

_“And who will help you deal with it when it does happen.”_

_“Me!” she explodes. “I will help me get through it.”_

_She instantly regrets her outburst as soon as she sees Kate’s face crumple. It takes her a minute to calm herself, she has to open and close her hand three times, dig her nails into her palm a little to remind herself that pain is alright._

_“Mom, I can’t hide here forever.”_

_She pulls away when Kate tries to put her hand on her arm, ignores the hurt look on her face._

_“But Montreal is so far away.”_

_“I know, but I think far away is what I need.” She can’t stay in London anymore. Can’t see the pity on the faces of people who used to admire her, who used to be her friends. She was shocked when Marie called her with the job offer. Marie had been the only one of her skating friends who’d kept in touch with her. Who hadn’t walked away no matter how hard she pushed. She’d heard about the work that Tessa had been doing in secret for Tracey Wilson, another woman who’d never given up on her._

_“Far away from me you mean,” her mother snaps back, so unlike Kate, who is always unflappable, never lets her feelings show._

_“Not just you.” She decides to only take her clothes. She’s going to live with Marie and Patch until she has enough money saved for a place of her own, help them start a skating school. “I can’t live here forever.”_

_“Yes, you can,” Kate insists from the doorway of Tessa’s bedroom. She doesn’t have to turn around to know exactly the look of disappointment and worry her mother wears, she’s seen it far too many times._

_“But I don’t want to.”_

  
Scott slips his hand into hers and she realizes she’s slipped away again, for too long if her mother’s frantic calling of her name is any indication.

“Sorry, I’m here,” she says, trying to keep her voice soft.

“Are you at Jimmy and Shirley’s?” Trust her mother to remember the significance of today, to know where she’d be.

“Just about to leave.” She takes a deep breath, before her question. “Is anyone at the cottage right now?”

“No. Would you like to go there?”

She didn’t think there would be in the middle of the week in June, but she’s not sure she’s up for any interactions with her siblings.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Will you be alone?” Kate asks, the worry that Tessa is so used to hearing, creeping into her voice. 

“I’m here with a friend.” She glances at Scott, who smiles at her. She has no idea how much Jordan has told their mother, but she’s not willing to get into a conversation about him yet.

“That’s good,” Kate says and then explains that she’ll need a code for the new door on cottage, and a few other details.

“Oh, and mom,” Tessa says as they’re about to hang up. “I’d like to come visit next time I’m in town, if that’s alright with you.”

“I’d like that very much,” Kate chokes out, before hanging up.

“A cottage, huh?” Scott says, rubbing her back as she puts her phone away. “Well, why not?”

“When you said cottage, I was picturing something a little more rustic,” he whistles, as they get out of the car. Her family cottage is only couple of hours from Shirley and Jimmy’s house, so they make it there by late afternoon.

“The Virtues don’t do rustic.”

The cottage has been completely remodelled since the last time she was there, which is almost a relief. She’s not sure if she could take it, if it looked exactly the same.

“Come out to the water.” She pulls him through the modern kitchen and living room, giggling at the stunned expression on his face. It is extravagant for a cottage.

“This is the nicest cottage I’ve ever seen.”

“The view is better.”

“You’re right,” he agrees, after they climb down the stairs to the dock. The water is still and blue, the sun is beaming down on them and making the trees look like they were lit from above, and there’s not a soul in sight.

It’s still ridiculously hot, so she strips off her blouse in favour of the tank top underneath. As soon as her shoulders are bare he drops a kiss there. She toes off her shoes and rolls up the bottom of her pants, as he watches her with open glee, and puts his feet in the water beside hers a few minutes later.

“I wish we could go swimming.” They’ve started kicking water at each other to the point that her pants are soaked despite her best efforts to keep them dry.

“Let’s go swimming.”

“We don’t have bathing suits.”

“T, there’s no one around,” he says as he sweeps his arm out towards the empty lake. There are no other houses within sightline of their dock. “Let’s just swim in our underwear.”

A refusal is on her lips, before she realizes he’s right. So she stands up and gives him a look that he misinterprets until she pulls her tank top up over her head. She’s undoing the button on her pants as he scrambles to his feet. They both remove their pants at the same time, locking eyes and refusing to look away. He teases her, as he works his shirt up over his abs and pecs, taking his time.

Once he’s finally down to his boxers, he looks over her bra and underwear and shakes his head in appreciation. He’s about to dive into the water, when she stops him with a hand on his arm. He cocks an eyebrow in confusion, until she reaches behind her back and undoes her bra, his face takes on an entirely different expression as she drops it to the ground. He’s frozen in place as she removes her underwear, winks at him and dives into the water.

It’s colder than she was expecting and it knocks her off kilter for a second, but she’s adjusted by the time she emerges from the water. He’s already joined her, splashing her as she swims over.

“Don’t you continue to surprise,” he says he wraps himself around her, they stay afloat by kicking their legs. She presses her pelvis against his, and as expected he left his boxers behind on the dock.

“I used to be brave.”

Memories of her time at the cottage flood her brain. Lazy wake ups, long swims and sunbathing. Holding hands as they walked by the shore and late night bonfires with forbidden marshmallows. Those memories used to make her sad, but now they fill her with a warmth, remind her that she can have all of that once again, and that the person who would be happiest for her would be Matthew.

  
Scott kisses her hard. Makes her think that they won’t be spending much more time in the water. 

“No used to about it. You’re the bravest person I know.”

And unlike all the other times he’s tried to tell her, this time in her heart, she believes it. Not perfect, still damaged, but she thinks she’s finally willing to accept not perfect. Especially if it means she gets to have him in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @rookandpawn1 on twitter, come by and say hi.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was nervous to write about the same event that I recently explored in Me Without You. I spent a lot of time wondering if I could make them different, but I was happy to find that because this Scott and Tessa are very different than that other T & S, there were plenty of differences.
> 
> Thanks as always to the amazing Walkinrobe who asks me all the right questions and to MyCatCanWrite for her editing and ridiculous idea that I'm a nice person.

“I have an important question and it might freak you out a little,” Scott says out of the blue one night at the beginning of November. They’ve just come back from Skate Canada, where he and Nat won by a commanding lead. They’re amazing skaters but she gives some of the credit to her choreography for their program, a tribute to finding joy in grief. It’s her last love letter to Matthew and her first to Scott.

“You would look terrible with a moustache,” she deadpans and he looks confused for a minute, before bursting into laughter. She takes immense pleasure in her ability to make him laugh hysterically. Especially when he wants to have a serious conversation.

“Oh, we’re in that mood, are we?” He pulls her from her desk chair and into his lap, where he’s sitting on the end of the guest bed. They’d decided to put a desk in the second bedroom after they both got tired of having to move her notes off the kitchen table every time they wanted to eat. Taking on three teams in addition to her work as technical specialist has been more time consuming than she thought, but she’s surprised to find that she loves it.

“What mood are you referring to exactly?” she teases back.

“One I’d very much like to take advantage of, after we have our serious talk.” His hands, one of which is firmly planted in her hair, the other stroking the underside of her breast, suggest anything other than waiting. But she’s come to know that he likes to always be touching her, isn’t aware he’s doing it most of the time. And she isn’t going to complain about it.

“So if it’s not a moustache question, what’s going to freak me out?”

“How do you want to handle Christmas this year?” He tightens his grip on her hair, like he’s afraid she’ll run at any minute. He’s not wrong to think so, but she’s more surprised by the question than upset. She’d completely forgotten Christmas on the horizon until he mentioned it. “Mom has been asking.”

“I’d like to spend it with you,” she says carefully, unsure of the words until they spill out of her mouth.

“Then we’ll stay here.” He kisses her cheek, the question answered in his mind.

“But, wouldn’t you like to spend it with your family?” She knows him, knows that he can’t be okay with not being with them.

“You’re my family too,” he whispers into her hair, pressing soft kisses there. Confessions like that can only be whispered between them. They make her heart clench with love and fear. She doesn’t know if she can really be that for him, and she suspects that deep down he knows the same. No matter how much they may want to deny it, to ignore it, there’s an end date to whatever it is between them.

“I could...,” she can do this for him. “We could go and visit.”

“We don’t have to,” he offers but his face is already lit up with the joy of the idea.

“If we could stay at a hotel?” She doesn’t think she could handle being around so many people, the loud chaos of the Moirs, for any sustained amount of time.

“Definitely a hotel.” He wiggles his eyebrows, pulls her closer. There’s so much love in this man, so much he has to give the world. “There’s no way I’d be able to keep my hands off you for that long, and I wouldn’t want my mother hearing how noisy you are.”

She swats him, but can’t deny the truth in his words. She’s become very vocal in her appreciation of his efforts lately.

“And we could visit my family too?” She’s surprised to find she actually wants to.

“Of course,” he agrees, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “Maybe we could come home for New Years? I liked it last year. Just the two of us in our house.”

“Our house?” she questions, but of course he’s right. It was half his from the moment she moved in, even if it took her awhile to realize. “I like the sound of that.”

“I do too.” He winds both his hands in her hair and pulls her in for a kiss. Her paperwork remains forgotten for the rest of the night.

They’re packed and ready to go to NHK when the call comes.

“My mom has called seven times,” he says all the colour draining from his face as he shows her all the missed calls. He’s just gotten off the ice. She’s still standing at the boards, her junior skaters just taking the ice.

Nat’s noticed his distress from across the rink. They are so in tune with each other, Scott and Nat, that she thinks they can feel the other’s emotions.

“Something’s wrong,” Nat agrees when he shows her all the missed calls “Alma wouldn’t call for no reason.”

Scott’s hands are shaking as he dials the phone. Her heart sinks as she watches him wander away from the boards so he can have a little privacy. Nat follows, her hand protectively wrapped around his bicep as he talks.

Tessa tries to focus on her junior team but her attention keeps wandering back to where Scott is, as he grows more upset. Eventually he ends his call, and sags into Nat’s arms.

“Go, Cherie. I will work with your team.” Marie is beside her, a comforting hand laid over hers.

Someday she will have to thank Marie for all the times she’s saved her.

Nat transfers Scott’s weight to her as soon as she comes over. He looks her briefly in the eyes and immediately drops his head to her shoulder, buries his face into her neck.

“One of his best friends is dying,” Nat supplies when Scott proves incapable. The news is obviously unexpected for everyone. “They don’t think he’s got much longer.”

Nat is fighting back tears too. She and Scott have known each other since childhood. So much of their lives are wrapped up together.

“I need to go say goodbye.” She can barely hear the words mumbled into her neck.

“Ok,” she nods but her head swirls with logistics. How can she get them to Ilderton and NHK and still support her other teams?

“I could go with him?” Nat offers quietly, sensing Tessa’s worries. They run into this problem every once in awhile. Where does Nat take precedent and where does she? “I’d like to say goodbye too.”

Tessa nods in agreement, rendered speechless watching fat tears fall from Nat’s eyes.

Somehow, they book a flight home that will get them there in time to see his friend and get to Japan in time for NHK.

“What if we don’t make it in time?” Nat whispers as they load Scott into the car. She chooses to believe Nat is referring to NHK, because anything else would be unfathomable. She understands the need to say goodbye better than anyone else. Often wonders if she would have found her way out of her grief faster, if only she’d had a chance at some closure.

“There are more important things than skating,” She squeezes Nat’s hand.

They won’t even be able to go home and pack a bag, they need to head straight for the airport or risk missing their flight. Luckily, everything for NHK is already ready to go.

Scott is gone somewhere inside his head on the rushed drive to the airport. The only indication he’s still with her, is his solid grip on her thigh as she drives.

There’s barely time for a kiss and a whispered “I love you”, before they have to dash to security. She hopes the rush will be enough to take his mind off the gravity of the situation.

Take care of him, she texts Nat before pulling away from the airport, her heart heavy with worry and grief.

Her answer is waiting when she arrives home: Always have, always will.

She flies to Japan with the other teams, sits with Marie on the plane and tries not to worry. While both Scott and Nat have kept her up to date, their texts have been frustratingly brief. With the exception of one rambling text full of declarations of love she received from Scott in the middle of the night, he’s been mostly silent. She’s lost at what to do to help him, is torn between wishing she’d gone with him and knowing she made the right choice heading to Japan.

Her night is a confused muddle, her medication forcing her to sleep but her anxiety keeping her half awake. The morning isn’t any better, she awakens to a text from Nat saying their flight is delayed and she’s not sure when they’ll be arriving. She heads to the arena and is torn between withdrawing and letting everyone grieve, and forging ahead because she knows that’s what he’ll want.

Nat and Scott arrive just as practise is about to begin. She finally unclenches the fist that aches with relief, but there’s no time for a reunion. Not that they would have had one, they never broadcast their relationship. All his attention stays on Nat, exactly where it should be.

But it remains on Nat when they get off the ice. He listens attentively as she points out the areas that still need improvement, Nat’s a bit late on her entrance to the second set of twizzles, Scott was uncharacteristically off his edge during part of a step sequence. But gives her a weak and impersonal smile, before turning his back and leading Nat away by the elbow.

It’s not unusual for him to treat her like a coach and nothing more when they are away at competition. But there’s a coldness to it that isn’t normally there, and she’s not sure how to feel about it.

By the time the rhythm dance rolls around, he’s putting on a show that everything is alright and he’s his normal happy self. But they have yet to have a conversation that isn’t about skating and Nat looks deeply worried. Still, they soar through the event, scoring a season’s best and taking the lead over the French by a significant margin. She’s never seen such a sour look on the president of the French Fed, and she takes no small amount of satisfaction in knowing, she helped put it there.

Twenty minutes before the start of the free dance, Scott’s mother calls her.

“Tessa?” Alma’s voice is full of tears. They’ve never really spoken before, except in passing at competitions.

“Is…” she doesn’t know how to finish the question.

“He passed away a little while ago,” Alma chokes and has to stop for a moment. “I don’t know if we should…could you…”

“Of course,” There’s so much more that she wants to say to this woman, to thank her for raising such a wonderful man, to apologize for not getting to know her sooner, to just offer some words of comfort, but she can’t.

Alma hangs up with a soft, “Thank you.”

She finds Scott where she left him, warming up beside Nat. They don’t speak to each other but somehow have a silent conversation that excludes the rest of the world. She doesn’t have to say anything, both of them know what’s happened, just from the look in her eyes.

Nat immediately pulls Scott into a hug and he collapses into her.

“Should we withdraw?” Nat whispers as Tessa watches, as a coach should. She knows her place, and yet as the woman he shares his life with she wants to go to him, take him in her arms and make it better.

“I want to skate.” His eyes are full of tears, and he looks around to make sure no one is watching. She does her best to block them from prying eyes with her body. Marie notices and joins her with a nod. Together they form a wall against the world, pretend they’re casually chatting, while Nat and Scott have a whispered conversation that she can’t quite make out.

A hand on her shoulder tells her they’ve made a decision. It’s Nat’s hand, not the one she was hoping for.

“We’re going to compete,” she says still holding Scott’s hand, who has turned fully away from them.

“Alright,” she says with a nod. What else is she supposed to do, it’s not like she was a part of the decision.

Not that she would have done or recommended anything different. Just for the record.

She walks with them to the ice, but neither of them say anything to her. They whisper between them. It’s always like this before a competition, they treat her like a coach, an outsider to their bubble. They always have, but this time it feels deliberate and she hates that it hurts.

They skate flawlessly. She knew they would. They’re the type of skaters that take refuge in their skating. It’s their safe place and it’s part of why they’re so successful. The other part of their success is their hard work. That in times like this, they can just rely on the training. Let their bodies take over and do the work, when their minds aren’t there with them.

Scott manages to fake some smiles for the kiss and cry, hold it together for the rest of the competition and the medal ceremony. And then he and Nat disappear, leaving Tessa behind. As she always expected they would.

She wakes up to someone pounding on her door. She went to bed alone and worried, didn’t take her meds, not wanting to be incoherent if he needed her. Still, she’s been asleep for several hours and the world has that blurry, not quite real feeling that only happens when you’re woken from a deep sleep.

It’s Nat on the other side.

Her fuzzy brain can’t quite understand why she’s there, so it takes her longer than normal to recognize the panicked look on the other woman’s face.

“He’s missing,” Nat says before she has a chance to speak,

“I’m sure…”

“I think he’s drinking.”

Her world sort of tilts for a moment. As if everything she knew and was sure of no longer exists. She has to sit down.

“Why do you think that?” Her voice doesn’t sound right. All high and tinny in her ears, as if it’s showing her emotions, which is absolutely not something she allows herself to do.

“He was drinking when we were home,” she blurts out, blushes and then charges on. “I smelled it on his breath, but I didn’t want to believe it, so I convinced myself I was wrong.”

“Oh.” She would very much like to panic, but now doesn’t seem like the time.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you,” Nat says as she sits down on the bed beside her and takes her hand.

“I probably would have done the same thing.” She would have. Didn’t she know there was something wrong? Didn’t she ignore the creeping feeling in her gut? That odd text message? “Did you try calling him?”

“It rang and rang, no answer. He’s not answering my texts either.”

“Let me throw on some clothes and we’ll go look for him.” It’s only then that she realizes she’s only wearing her tank top and that Nat can see the roadmap of scars all over her arms. For the first time she can’t bring herself to care, there are so many more important things than hiding her scars from the people she loves.

She’s just slipped on her sweatshirt when a thought occurs to her, so she races to find her phone. There’s nothing from Scott there, not a surprise. “He did a thing to my phone, so we could see where the other person is?”

“Find my friends!” Nat yells as if she’s found lost treasure.

Tessa just hands over the phone and Nat quickly pulls up Scott’s contact and locates him on the map. She’s not surprised to find he’s at a bar.

“Some of the other’s were talking about heading over there,” Nat says, shaking her head. “I heard Donahue invite him, but he said no.”

There’s no way he was going to say yes with Nat watching, he’d know she’d stop him. He’d need someone who’d encourage him and she’s guessing Zach fucking Donahue would be just the man for the job.

“Can we walk there?”

“It’s pretty close,” Nat confirms and Tessa steals herself to head out onto the streets of Sapporo. She hates how many people there are, how close everyone will stand to her, how sometimes people are bold enough to ask about the scar on her face, but she’ll do anything for him. Face all her fears if she has to.

Even though it’s late, the city is alive with people. People who stand so much closer than they do in Canada, who aren’t afraid to push up against her to get to where they want. Just as she’s starting to feel overwhelmed, Nat grabs her hand and pulls her through.

The bar is not far, and they can hear cheering echoing down the street as they get closer. There’s a party going on inside, and the place is so packed that people have spilled out onto the street. She shoves her way through them. Anyone who tries to argue with her progress, stops the moment she glares at them. People know better than to fuck with a woman with a huge scar on her face.

They find Scott in the centre of the action, and watch as he downs one shot and then another. His eyes are glassy and he’s having trouble standing up straight. He doesn’t look like the Scott she knows at all and it shocks her.

Nat, on the other hand, looks like she’s seen this one too many times and really wishes she didn’t have to again.

“T,” Nat stops her as she starts to move towards him. “He’s an asshole when he’s like this.”

She nods, but she can’t quite fathom the sweet man who’s seen her through so many things being anything other than lovely.

“Uh oh!” he yells, when he notices her. “The fun police are here.”

Zach Donahue chortles and she silences that idiot with a glare.

“I think we should head home.”

“You,” he says and takes a huge and deliberate swig from his beer. “are not the boss of me. Aren’t we having a good time?”

The bar cheers along with him, even though half of the inhabitants look like they don’t understand a word he’s saying. One of the Russian pairs skaters, a tiny thing that can’t be more than twenty, sidles up to him and wraps her arms around his waist. In turn, he slings an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in closer. She looks comfortable there, as if she’s been there all evening.

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Nat whispers as Tessa takes a step towards him. “He won’t remember in the morning.”

But she will.

She puts her hand on his shoulder and the Russian moves in closer.

“I don’t think this is really what you want.”

“How would you know?” He sloshes his beer as he slurs his words, spills some on the Russian. “I’m so tired of being on my best behaviour around you. It’s exhausting. You’re fucking exhausting.”

She tries hard not to let his words hit her.

“Scott!” Nat barks.

“You’re on her side? I thought you were my partner,” he yells back. The Russian wanders off in a huff, either done with the drama or the beer he keeps spilling on her.

“It’s time to go,” she says, trying to avoid the argument brewing between Nat and Scott.

“Better to listen to Mommy,” someone, she’s pretty sure is Donahue, yells.

“Just leave me alone,” Scott roars and pulls his arm away so suddenly that she loses her footing and crashes to the floor.

She’s never heard sound stop as instantaneously and completely as it does in the moments that follow. It’s almost as if everyone stops breathing. People are so stunned that not a single phone appears, everyone just stops.

Before she can blink, Nat is at her side helping her to her feet without a word.

“Are you happy now?” she yells at Scott and the bar goes back to the noise and the party of moments before.

“Tess, I…” his face crumbles and he tries to reach for her.

“We’re going home. Now,” Nat says as she puts her body in between Tessa and Scott. As if she no longer trusts him.

Tessa, for the first time, doesn’t know what to think.

He apologizes the whole walk back to the hotel. He apologizes at the top of his lungs. He apologizes in song. He tries to hold her hand and apologize in whispers of affection, but Nat is in full protective mode and won’t let him anywhere her. And truth be told she’s not sure how forgiving she’s feeling.

She knows he’s drunk, but the truth of his words hits her like a punch to the gut. She is exhausting and she’s been waiting for him to say so for a long time.

“Leave him here,” Tessa says when they reach her room

Scott’s gone from apologizing to incoherent rambling. He’s having trouble walking, and she suspects it’s not going to be a fun night.

“Are you sure? I’ve been through this with him before,” Nat answers.

“Then I think you deserve a break.” She puts her hand on Nat’s wrist and squeezes. There’s so much kindness and generosity below the shell she shows the world, she wishes more people could see it.

“Call me if you need anything,” she says and squeezes back. As she disappears down the hall, she can see the worry holding tight in her shoulders.

He’s leaning against the door, mumbling with his eyes closed, when she turns back to him. She opens the door and lets him fall in. She might be more upset than she realized.

“I’m on the floor,” he says several minutes later. She’s had time to put away her shoes and put a garbage can beside him.

“You are.”

“T, I…” He doesn’t have a chance to continue, instead dashing for the bathroom. She sits on the bed and waits while he empties the contents of his stomach. She loves him, but he’s a grown up and he got himself into this.

Enough time passes that she’s laid down and is half asleep when she hears him calling for her from the bathroom. He’s on the floor with his back to the tub, his hands limp in his lap and he’s sobbing. As soon as she sees him, all the anger is gone, and all she can think about is how much she loves him. How much she just wants to make it all better for him.

She sits next to him on the floor and wraps her arms around him. He clings to her and cries. She’ll stay on the floor with him forever if he needs her.

“I just don’t want to feel this way anymore,” he manages after a long time.

“Sad?”

“Addicted.”

His answer breaks her heart and they both sit on the floor and cry.

For one terrifying moment, when she wakes up, she thinks he’s gone, off drinking again. The bed is cold beside her, and she knows they stumbled in there sometime around four in the morning. That he was wrapped around her, still drunk and sad, when they fell asleep.

“I’m over here,” he says as she bolts up. He’s sitting at the table in the corner of the room with his laptop in front of him. It’s dark in the room, the blackout curtains are doing their job keeping out the late morning sun. The laptop lights up his face, highlighting how tired and defeated he looks.

“You showered?” she asks, as she opens the curtains a hint. It must be getting close to eleven if she’s guessing correctly.

“I have to leave for gala practise in half an hour.”

“Are you…?” Fine? Going to drink? Still in love with me? She doesn’t know how to negotiate what’s happening. She has no experience with this Scott.

He gets up from his spot at the table and pulls her up into a hug. It’s desperate and needy and unlike anything she’s ever received from him before.

“I don’t think I need to go back to rehab,” he says into her hair, not letting her go, even when she starts to pull away. “But I was looking up AA meetings. I can Skype into one after practice.”

“That’s good,” she agrees, and he finally lets her pull back a little.

“I haven’t been going to the meetings, but I’m going to start again. I want you to know that I’m taking this very seriously, that I’m going to fix it.”

“I don’t know if it’s something you can fix,” she says, slowly, carefully as she moves back enough so that she can see his face. Just as she suspected, he’s misunderstood what she’s trying to say, so she squeezes his hand and smiles. “I don’t mean you can’t fix us. There’s nothing to fix with us, because nothing is broken.”

He smiles and kisses her forehead.

“I mean that I think your addiction is like my anxiety, it’s always going to be there, and there are things we can do to help, but it’s never going to just go away. And the sooner we accept that. The better we’re going to be.”

“I don’t want to accept it,” He’s so hurt, so lost that she cries for him.

“I know.”

“But, I’ll try. For you.”

“You have to do it for you.” She knows this without question, that he has to be the solution to his problems, his demons. The same way she has to do the same for herself. “But I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

He nods and she has no choice but to kiss him. It was meant to be a reassurance, but as she starts to pull back, he urges her on, and she complies, willingly. She wants him, always, without question. Every part of him, even when the pieces of them are fragile. Through her anger and and their shared hurt, she will always want him.

“Do we have time?” she asks, as his hands start to work the straps of her tank top down her shoulders, his mouth hot on her neck.

“Yes.” He finds that spot on her neck, the one that leaves her groaning with desire. “But unfortunately no.”

He nips at her lips two more times before they break apart. He runs his hands through his still damp hair and takes a few breaths to compose himself.

“I don’t remember what I said last night,” he says suddenly. She’d been watching him get his stuff together for the gala practise. As a coach, she has no need to be there, but she wonders if she should go too and keep an eye on him. “But I’m usually an asshole in these situations.”

He’s red with embarrassment and won’t look her in the eye. “What did I say?”

“It’s fine.”

“T, what did I say? Was it that bad?” He knows her too well. She’s not sure she’ll ever be able to lie to him.

“You told me I wasn’t in charge of you.” It’s a half truth, as close as she can get.

“Well, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever said,” he comes over to her and puts his arms around her waist, but keeps his distance, they don’t have time to get distracted again. “Because as my coach you most certainly are in charge of me. And as the love of my life, you have every piece of me.”

“I feel the same.”

She thinks, as she watches him pack up, that he might own more of her than she ever will of him.

There’s a tension that exists between them that never existed before, when they return home. He keeps his promise and starts attending AA meetings, there’s no hint he’s drinking. He’s a quieter version of the Scott he was before. Sad and slowly dealing with the loss of his friend, but steady and sure. But she still feels like she needs to watch him, to make sure that he doesn’t start down a destructive path again. She watches Nat doing the same thing, worry etched in her face when she thinks no one is paying attention.

“How was your meeting?” she asks him when he comes through the door. It’s snowing and the snowflakes nestled in his hair are just beginning to melt.

“Good.” He says the same thing every time he comes home. She wants to press for more information but thinks the anonymous part of Alcoholics Anonymous prohibits it.

She hates herself for it but when he leaves for the meetings, one of the only times they’re apart, she worries that he’s gone somewhere to drink. She stops herself from using the find a friend app, she won’t break trust like that, but she does get close enough to take a whiff of his breath, make sure there’s no alcohol there.

“T, I know what you’re doing.” He follows her into the kitchen where she has dinner waiting. He and Nat are on a strict training diet and their meals come prepackaged. She tries to eat the same in solidarity, but she’s been away from training for too long and enjoys chocolate too much to really follow along. “And I know that I broke your trust, but I really am okay.”

“I know,” she says as she plates his food and they sit down at the table. “But I never had to deal with the reality of your alcoholism and I think I convinced myself that it wasn’t really a problem.”

She’d put him on a bit of a pedestal, almost thought he was perfect, and watching him crashing down to a mere mortal has startled her a little.

“I’m going to earn your trust back, just so you know.” There’s not a hint of resentment in his voice, only guilt. “You’ll love me just as much as you did before.”

“Oh, Scott, is that what you think? That I don’t love you as much?”

“You’ve seen the worst of me now, how could you?” he says with a shrug, there’s no doubt in his mind that his words are true.

“Fuck that,” she explodes. “I couldn’t love you more if I tried. You being an actual human isn’t going to change that.”

They both stand up at the same time and grab for each other. There’s no safer place in the world for her than in his arms. No place she feels better than when his hand is in hers. And she knows that she’ll fight for him, that they'll fight for each other until they can’t anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @rookandpawn1 over at twitter, come by and say hi.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. Well today has been a ride, and Worlds cancelling is disappointing for a lot of us. Hopefully a new Christmas themed chapter will help cheer everyone up.
> 
> This is the first part of their Christmas activities. The visit home still to come.
> 
> Many thanks to LPM editor extraordinaire and Robe cheerleader and friend.

“Scott,” she nudges him with her nose, trying to wake him up gently. But she has an urgent question and he’s still sleeping, so she shoves him. Hard. “Wake up.”

“What?” he wakes up half way through a light snore. “What’s wrong?”

He looks so confused and adorable, that she runs her hand through his messy hair before she answers. “It’s snowing.”

“Is it bad?” He sits up and rubs her cheek. “Do I need to dig us out?”

“No, it’s just a dusting, but it’s making me feel… could we decorate for Christmas?”

There’s a lightness to how she’s feeling that she hasn’t experienced in a long time. Since their return from NHK their house had been heavy with grief, and caution. But she woke up feeling like maybe they could free herself from the burden for a few hours, and when she saw the snow, she knew exactly how. And that she would drag him along for the ride.

He just laughs and pulls her into a hug. Nods into her hair.

“I’ll make coffee and toast and then we can get to work.”

She leaps off the bed and runs into the kitchen, a giggle escaping her as she makes her way to the coffee pot. She’d been up for almost an hour, but she likes to wait until he wakes up to make breakfast. She’d been a late sleeper in her youth but lately she finds she’s up with the sun.

“Oh,” she suddenly remembers when she sees him standing in the hallway. He’s wearing a t-shirt and some flannel pyjama pants. “I have something for you. Wait here.”

“In the hallway?” he laughs again, and he looks whole, well, for the first time in a long time.

“Or at the table?” she calls over her shoulder as she runs into the bedroom, to find the package she hid there almost a month ago, before NHK. It’s right where she left it, kept safe in the bottom drawer of her dresser. It’s still in the bag, she’d planned to wrap it and give it to him for Christmas, but today feels like the right time.

He’s at the counter filling two cups with coffee when she comes back to the kitchen. She hides the bag around her back when he turns around.

“Do you have a present for me?” he asks with a smirk.

“I do. For both of us really.” He smirks at her, raises an eyebrow. “Not that kind of present.”

She does have that kind of present for him, but it’s definitely waiting until Christmas.

“Should I sit down?” he asks. She can tell he’s enjoying himself, that he’s teasing her.

“Yes, and close your eyes.” 

He cocks his eyebrow at her but dutifully takes a seat at the kitchen table, and winks at her before he closes his eyes.

The bag crinkles as she pulls his present out of it. His face lights up, the same way a child’s does and she can tell he’s fighting the urge to peek. She places the gift gently in his hands and he doesn’t instantly look, feeling it for a minute.

“It’s soft, and kind of squishy. T, did you get me a puppy?”

“It’s not a puppy,” she laughs. Honestly, how could anyone not love this man?

“Is it a car?”

“No.”

“A cheetah?”

“Why would I buy you a cheetah?”

“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted one.”

“It’s not a cheetah.”

“Oooo I know, it’s a rocket ship!”

“Scott,” she’s laughing so hard that she’s having trouble breathing. “Just open your eyes.”

“So impatient…” he mumbles, but stops short when he opens his eyes and sees what he’s holding. “T?”  
He carefully unfolds the pyjamas he’s holding in his hands. They’re old fashioned, red flannel, with surfing Santas all over them.

“I thought for Christmas. I got a matching pair.” She can feel her cheeks redden as she talks. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

He grabs her arm as she starts to walk away, and pulls her into his lap. “I love them.”

“You do?”

“I’ve always wanted matching pjs.” He kisses her, hair, her neck, her lips through his smile. “Should we change into them now?”

“Yes.” She kisses him. Hard and long to distract him, and then jumps up to race him to the bedroom. He catches up to her at the doorway to the bedroom, grabs her and throws her over his shoulder.

“Scott!” she screams through her giggles, as he spins her around in circles. She’s about to insist he put her down, when she realizes that she’s actually loving being up in the air again. She’d forgotten about the feeling of freedom, grace, boundlessness tinged with fear that always came from a lift. Years of muscle memory kick in and she tightens he core, tends her back leg. He notices the shift immediately, places a supportive hand on one leg, spins with her twice before gently placing her on the floor. She sits down on the bed to catch her breath and he joins her before speaking.

“Do you miss it?” he asks and puts a hand on her thigh.

“All the time, but I try hard not to.”

“I don’t know how I’d cope, if I couldn’t skate anymore,” he says carefully. She appreciates the effort but knows how hard it is to be both honest and aware of another person’s feelings.

“It’s like losing a piece of yourself,” she gives him all his honesty back.

He pulls her tight and hugs her. He doesn’t tell her it’s ok, or that she’ll find something else, he just understands.

“And I’m pretty sure I can get dressed faster that you can,” he says and leaps up. 

“No fair! My pyjamas are in the drawer,” she yells as she runs.

“And mine are in the hall!” he yells back.

Clothes fly as they both race to get their pyjamas, giggly and trash talking as they go. He falls over in his haste to get his pants off and she gets tangled in her shirt. In the end it’s a tie (she suspects he slowed down, just so it would be).

“You are just about the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” he says and kisses her nose.

“If you’re trying to use flattery to get out of helping me, it’s not going to work.” Normally she wouldn’t mind getting distracted, but the house isn’t going to decorate itself.

“I’m at your disposal,” he offers and laughs as she pulls him out of the room.

“We have a problem,” she says as she surveys the tree. The playlist he gave her the year before is on repeat on the speakers resting on the bookshelf he built her over the summer, and somehow she has a garland wrapped around her neck like a boa. It’s an idyllic picture, but there’s definitely a problem. 

“What’s that?” he asks from his spot on the floor where he’s trying to figure out how to make the lights on the tree work.

“This tree is very small.” It used to suit her just fine, but now it’s leaving her unsatisfied. “And there are no decorations.”

Well, there are a few. The ornament his niece made her and a couple she couldn’t part with from Matthew, but all in all, it’s lacking in the cheer department. Frankly, the most festive thing in the house are their matching pjs.

“And I have no idea how to get these lights working.” He holds up the tangled and still dark mess. “I hate to say this, but I think we have to go shopping.” 

Neither of them enjoys shopping, using delivery services and online stores as much as possible.

“But, maybe, I don’t know, it might be fun?”

“Tessa Jane!” he cries in mock horror. “Are you suggesting that we might actually enjoy shopping?”

She shrugs, because she doesn’t want to completely ruin her curmudgeon reputation, but all she can picture are the rows of Christmas decorations and lights and it makes her heart beat a little faster.

“Then let’s go,” he pushes her shoulder, and she scowls at him. “Should we change first?”

She doesn’t want to, now that she has them on she wants to wear them for the rest of the day, or until he removes them for her.

“We probably should. Just in case someone sees us.” They’ve been very careful, not to seem like a couple out in public, but it would be hard to deny their relationship if they’re photographed in matching pjs. She suspects that everyone at Gadbois knows they live together, although no one ever acknowledges it. Their relationship is an open secret in the skating world but the fans have no idea. 

“Would it be such a bad thing if someone does?” he asks carefully as he winds the tangled string of lights around his hand, a sure sign he’s uncomfortable.

“Scott…” this feels like a conversation they keep having and never resolving. 

“Never mind. I know you’re right.”

She takes the lights away from him, and puts them down before taking his hands in hers.

“The fact that you want to tell everyone about us, makes me love you even more, but we both know it wouldn’t be a good idea.” 

The French are breathing down their necks and even though Nat and Scott are the superior team in every way, she knows that part of what is keeping them ahead is the public’s fascination with their chemistry. Speculation about their relationship is rampant and as their coach she’s told them to play it up. They can’t take the chance, they’ll lose their advantage.

“I know, I do. I just wish things could be different,” he says and kisses her forehead. She wouldn’t want anyone to know about their relationship no matter the circumstances, because it belongs to them and no one else. He sees it as lying and she knows it bothers him. “I’m so proud to be with you, and I want the word to know how lucky I am. I’m still not sure how I tricked you into thinking I was a good deal.”

“I’m the lucky one,” she says and wraps her arms around him. 

“Maybe we can both be lucky,” he says and she thinks maybe they are.

“Important question,” he says as he pulls the car out of the driveway. She has reluctantly left her pyjamas at home, with a promise to herself that she would put them back on as soon as she gets home. She doesn’t want anything to take away this magical feeling she has. “Real tree or fake tree?”

“I’ve never had a real tree before.” Kate didn’t like the mess they made, and now that she thinks about it neither did Matthew. She always went along with what everyone else wanted, because it never seemed important. Now it suddenly does. Not so much that she have a real tree but that she genuinely have an opinion about it.

“We always have real trees at our house. Mom says the smell is worth the mess.” She can hear years of happy memories in Scott’s voice whenever he talks about his family. 

“A real tree feels like a lot of commitment. What did you do at your place?” This tree thing is a puzzle and she desperately wants to get the answer right.

“I never had a tree before,” he laughs like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, but stops as he sees her expression. “Because a tree was something you have with a family and that meant my parents house. But it’s different now. Home and family mean our house.”

He picks up her hand and kisses before placing it back in her lap. 

“Then we really have to get it right.” For him. She needs to get it right for him.

“I’m not sure there is a right and wrong when it comes to the tree question.”

She looks him dead in the eye and says, “Scott, there is always a right answer.”

He pauses for a second, trying to figure out whether or not she’s being serious. Unfortunately, she can’t help but let her lip twitch in amusement.

“You almost had me. You’re actually remarkably funny.”

“Don’t I know it,” she deadpans, which makes him laugh even harder.

They decide on an artificial tree. For mostly practical reasons. As much as she would like to try a real tree, it won’t fit in the car and they’re going to be gone for a week right at Christmas time and she can’t have a fire hazard in her perfect house. Scott claims that the artificial tree is a better because it will be theirs for ever. The idea of forever trips her up a little, but she doesn’t let it ruin the day.

“Think that one might be too big for the house,” he says and pinches her side. She swats at him and moves away, but it makes her giggle all the same. People are looking at them, but she doesn’t see recognition in their eyes. Just to be sure she moves a little further away. He doesn’t look impressed but accepts her decision all the same.

“It is pretty though.”

“We can get it if you don’t mind not having a living room.”

“It’s not that big.” But it is, so she moves on down the line. 

“Or a kitchen,” he adds and follows her.

“You’re silly today.”

“I feel lighter today.” He spins her around in the aisle. She checks, but no one is looking. “Like I’m really good, instead of just pretending to be good.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” Since no one is looking she gives him a hug. 

He’s struggled since his relapse, not quite the Scott he was before, but she can sense the difference in him. Like the grief and guilt are finally easing a little.

“Anyway, let’s find a tree. What’s your opinion on lights?”

“That it should have some.” 

Her answer makes him laugh, his big, booming, you took me by surprise laugh. She loves that laugh, hasn’t heard it in awhile.

“I meant do you like coloured or white lights.”

“I feel like that shouldn’t even be a question.”

“Right, so all white lights.” He nods and they carry on looking at trees.

They walk in silence for a few minutes before she says, “If you like coloured lights, we could…consider them.”

He laughs again. 

“I know how incredibly painful it was for you to say that, but I’m fine with white lights.” He grabs her hand and holds it for a minute, while they continue down the aisle.

“Scott…” she says stopping suddenly in front of one of the trees.

“I know.”

“This is the one,” they agree together.

She doesn’t know how she knows, but it’s the same feeling she had when she saw her house, when Marie invited her to coach at Gadbois, when she saw Nat and Scott skate. All of those things were meant to be in her life, she doesn’t really have a choice.

“Well that only took forty-five minutes,” he says as he shoulders the tree down from the shelf and heads towards the checkout. “At this rate we should be done decorating for Christmas right around Worlds.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

“I really do.”

They head to a little shop that Marie recommends to buy ornaments. All of them are handmade, and one of a kind, and she wants to buy all of them despite a price that makes Scott raise his eyebrows. In the end she only buys five, deciding that she has a lifetime to add to the tree and she wants each thing she adds to come with a memory. Scott picks one while she’s not looking, makes her turn her back while he pays, determined to surprise her.

They make one last stop at a grocery store so Scott can buy more garlands and wrapping paper, while she gets the ingredients for lunch.

“Candy canes?” she asks when she notices the boxes in her shopping cart. He thinks he’s sneaky, but he’s not.

“No tree is complete without candy canes,” he says and tries to put cookies in the cart. She puts them back while his back is turned. All of their shopping trips are like this.

“And you want to eat them?”

“The rule at my house was you could have them if they fell off and broke.”

“I’m going to guess that you and your brother’s ran into the tree a lot.” She’s never met his brothers, but she can picture three rambunctious boys like him running around causing havoc, intentional and accidental.

“You still nervous about the visit?” he takes over pushing the cart.

“A little.” More than a little. At least three times a day, she changes her mind and decides to stay home. She knows he’d support her if he did, but she can’t bring herself to disappoint all the people involved.

She can tell he wants to kiss her, hold her close and reassure her, but he doesn’t because they’re out in public.

“It’ll be alright,” he promises, because what more can he do. She wants to believe him, desperately wants to, so she does.

As soon as they get home, they immediately change back into their pyjamas.

She leaves him cursing at the tree he’s trying to set up while she goes to make lunch, but stops to watch him. She lets the sight of him, in the pyjamas she bought him, with his hair a rumpled mess and the tip of his tongue poking out of his lips in deep concentration, burn into her memory. It would be easier to take a picture, but after losing Matthew, she knows how important it is to catalogue these simple, unhurried moments, into her brain. Pictures can lie, they never tell the whole story, the emotion, the way her heart clenches, but the memory can be hers forever. Recalled when she needs it the most, discarded if it becomes too painful.

He declares victory over the tree just as she finishes making lunch.

“It looks good, right,” she says as she looks it over from top to bottom. It fits perfectly in the corner of the living room that she never quite knew how to fill. The warm white lights fill the room up with a comforting glow, that fights the gloomy day outside the window. It stopped snowing just before they decided to go shopping, but the sky remains overcast and threatening.

“Grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup,” he crows, breaking her out of her thoughts. “This is the best lunch ever.”

“I thought it was appropriate, given the day.” She goes over to the sink where he’s washing his hands, and wraps her arms around his waist, lays her head on his back.

“Is there dessert?” He turns around in her arms and slides his wet hands under her top. 

“There may be something for later, if you behave yourself.” He nods in agreement, but shifts his hands from her back to her front and takes a moment to enjoy what he finds there.

“Later,” she whispers, even though she doesn’t want to wait. But lunch is getting cold and there’s a tree to put up, and if she’s being honest, anticipation makes the reward all the sweeter.

He sighs and mouths at her neck, indulges in one more pull of her nipples, before withdrawing his hands. She thought the wanting would go away when they were finally sleeping together, but their desire’s only grown stronger, more all consuming, especially in moments like this when they’re free from the worry of competition and training. 

Despite their best efforts, they get pulled into talk of training and plans for what approach to take as they head into Nationals and Worlds. She fully expects them win, they’ve been scoring fantastic numbers, way better than the French, but there’s never time to rest or assume. They try not to talk about skating, but always fall back into it. It’s such a fundamental part of who they are that it’s hard to avoid.

But as soon as the food is gone, and the dishes are in the dishwasher (she’d be fine letting them sit in the sink but he insists that dishes go straight into the washer), they head right back to the tree.

She unwraps her ornaments while he wraps a silver garland around the tree. She probably would have gone without one, but he insisted and she has to admit it does make things look more festive. She puts the two older ornaments on first. A figure skating couple that Matthew gave her for their first anniversary. It took her years to be able to be able to have it on the tree, but now she looks on it with fondness, rather than grief. His niece’s ballerina ninja follows immediately after and Scott laughs as she tries to get the ornament held together with copious amounts of glitter to sit straight.

“I bet she’s going to have another one for you when we get home,” he says.

“I’m counting on it.” This is how she wants to fill her tree, which ornaments that mean something.

“She’s really excited to meet you.”

“Oh.”

“She’s four T, the pressure is pretty small on this one.”

She tries to picture a four year old girl. To remember that they’re not particularly terrifying.  
“Let’s put the rest of the ornaments up,” he says and gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Three of the ornaments she chose were picked strictly because their beauty struck a chord within her. The first is a butterfly made of stained glass, that when the light hits it just right makes it seem like hundreds of butterflies are dancing around the room. Twisting and turning as if they are dancing, filling the room with magic. She puts it near the top of the tree, where she thinks it might be most likely to catch the weak winter sun.

Next is a snowflake, an obvious Christmas ornament, but this one looks like it’s made of the finest lace that could be made by human hands. It looks fragile, but it’s surprisingly strong. Much like, she realizes, she is.

The third ornament is a silver bell. There’s nothing spectacular about the design, but the note that strikes whenever she rings it, hits her heart in a way that she can’t understand or articulate. She’s delighted to find that it rings only when you get very close to the tree, and especially with Scott’s heavier tread.

Maybe, she did pick each one because of more than just their beauty after all. 

She’s inexplicably nervous to show him the last ornament she picked, which is ridiculous because if anyone would understand a sentimental gesture, it’s Scott Moir.

“What’s the last one?” he asks as he hands the silver bell from the tree. He’d been so busy trying to hide his purchase from her that he hadn’t noticed the one she made for him.

“It’s a train,” she says and he gives her a quizzical look when she fails to either show him the ornament or explain the story behind why she bought it. “It’s for you.”

He looks so touched that she vows to do more for him, to show him she loves him the same way he always shows her the same. She carefully pulls the tissue off the ornament and hands it to him, and he holds it like she just handed him a baby chick or a Faberge egg. The train is sliver like the bell, but with intricate etchings carved into it. It shines more than the bell, catching the light as he rotates it in his hand.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, examining it from all sides. She knows he’s trying to puzzle out why she gave it to him.

“Sometimes,” she takes his other hand in hers. “You remind me of the little engine that could. You can do this Scott. Never stop believing you can.”

The ‘this’ remains unspoken between them. His sobriety, his Olympic dreams, everything that comes after. She doesn’t have to specify because she believes in all of it. Everything he wants she fully believes he will achieve one day.

He puts the train on the tree so carefully, it makes her giggle. Checks three times to make sure it’s secure, before he comes back to her. 

“I love you,” he says before he kisses her. Gently, sweetly, while he threads his fingers through his hair, as if he were trying to prove his love with a kiss.

“Are you going to show me yours?” she asks into a kiss.

“My penis?” His genuine confusion makes her laugh.

“Scott! Your ornament.” 

He laughs so hard that he almost falls off the couch. He retrieves the ornament, and sits back on the couch, after he’s stopped laughing, but is still wiping tears out of his eyes.

“Open it.” He nudges it into her hands, and she takes her time opening it, just as she does with every gift. The longer she takes the more antsy he gets, practically bouncing in his seat, by the time she peels of the last piece of tape. “You know you can just rip it open? Right?”

She just laughs at him, and opens the tissue paper. Inside she finds a clock, that bears so striking a resemblance to the one he gave her the year before that it’s like it was created from a photograph.

“I couldn’t resist,” he says with a shrug.

“It’s so beautiful.” She can’t help the tears that spring to her eyes. He’s turned her into a softy. They both go to the tree, and hang it together.

“We have all the time in the world,” he says and kisses the top of her head. 

Her stomach drops to her knees. He believes in the certainty of what he’s saying. She…

“Scott, I…”

“It’s ok. Just let me have it,” he whispers. She wraps her arms around him and does, looks at their tree with a pride and longing that she wasn’t sure she was capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, would love to hear from you on the comments.


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a mixed bag of humour, romance and angst. I apologize in advance for the angst, and some of the humour.
> 
> Note: I feel weird writing about real children, which is, I’m aware, a weird place for someone who writes smut about two real people who aren’t a couple. So, I invented the children in this chapter, which I’ve decided is ok because this is an AU.

Ilderton looks exactly the way she imagined it. There’s a small town warmth that has the same energy as Scott himself, as if it’s a part of his blood and bones. The house he grew up in, that his parents still call home, exudes friendliness. And volume. She can hear the noise from inside the house as she stands in the driveway.

“Ok.” He holds her shoulders like a coach giving a running back a pep talk. “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to be your worst nightmare in there. Loud, overly familiar people with no sense of personal boundaries. And that’s not even my brothers, who are sociopaths that enjoy torturing me.”

She laughs, which she knows was his intent. She’s surprisingly much, much calmer than either of them expected. The anxiety will be back, she’s sure, but for now she thinks she’s ready to meet his family.

And then see hers.

And then spend Christmas day with his.

She sure hopes this sense of calm continues because it’s going to be a hellish couple of days if it doesn’t. And while she can get through a couple of days of anxiety hell, she doesn’t want to ruin his Christmas.

“This is the most important piece of advice I can give you: my dad is your safe place. He is the only member of this family…” he’s momentarily interrupted by someone screaming from inside the house. “Anyway, if you need a break, find him. He’ll lead you to quiet. It’s usually found in the garage.”

“Scott.” She touches her forehead to his, and giggles. “I’ll be fine.”

“I feel like you think I’m exaggerating. I’m really not.” He shakes her hand and leads her toward the house. “We only have to stay for a couple hours.”

Just then a small child runs out of the house completely naked, despite the cold. Scott intercepts him and picks him up with one arm.

“Uncle Scott!” the child screams. She hadn’t realized there’d be quite so much screaming.

“Why are you naked?”

“It’s a really long story.” She takes one look at the expression of absolute seriousness on Scott’s nephew’s face and she can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Go put some clothes on.”

“If I have to,” he replies doubtfully, as if putting on clothes is the last thing he’d ever consider. Scott sets the child down and they watch as he scampers into the house.

“Which one is that?” she asks. Neither of them make a move to go into the house.

“It’s hard to tell them apart. Noah maybe? Ben? Micheal? Ernest?”

“You don’t have a nephew named Earnest.” She pokes him in the ribs and smiles. He knows exactly who every one of his nephews is and their current favourite toy. She has a bag of presents that he picked and she wrapped to prove it.

“I was just checking to see if you were listening.” He winks at her and rubs a hand up and down her arm. “That was Spencer. He’s the biggest shit of all of them.”

“So the one that most reminds you of yourself?”

“Yup.” His grin reaches from ear to ear, and she can feel the excitement rolling off of him. He is a man who genuinely and unapologetically loves his family. “You ready for this?”

“Let’s get ready to rumble!” she calls out in her best wrestling announcer voice, and is rewarded with a kiss, before he tugs her towards the house.

“Ma!” he bellows over the din, as he opens the front door. “We’re here!”

“Everyone be quiet! Tessa’s here!” She recognizes Alma’s voice from the few times she spoken to her. The room just beyond the front hall goes silent.

“And Scott,” he adds under his breath, and looks a little offended.

“What did you tell them about me?” she hisses as she hears his mother’s footsteps coming towards them, over the absolute silence in the next room.

“That you aren’t great with loud noises and you startle easily.”

She doesn’t have time to tell him off because Alma is there and she’s hugging Scott, who picks her up from the floor with an excited whoop.

“Good lord, Scotty. I’m too old for that.” She kisses both his cheeks, despite her protests and then turns Tessa. She can tell that Alma wants to hug her, she’s rocking back and forth on her feet as if she can’t decide if it would be ok or not. Tessa wants to give him that, to be the kind of person who can hug his mother in greeting, but she isn’t.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she says instead and nods. Debates a handshake, but knows that would be too formal.

“Joe! Tessa’s here.” Alma yells and immediately looks horrified. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t know what Scotty told you,” She can feel Scott wince beside her. “But I’m really not bothered by the noise.”

It’s a lie of course, but it’s only a little louder than the arena during any given practice and she’s gotten used to that.

“Please don’t call me that,” he whispers as Joe enters the front hall. The noise is already starting to ramp up in the next room without Alma there to keep it under control.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she manages, just as Joe extends his hand to her.

“Tessa, it’s so nice to finally have you in our home.” Joe’s smile is a carbon copy of Scott’s and it relaxes her almost instantly.

“I should have come sooner.”

There’s a scream from the next room and she and Joe flinch at the same time.

“Nonsense, this is the perfect time to come,” he says and winks. Scott and Alma are so similar looks wise, you see them and instantly know that they are mother and son. He doesn’t look much like his father, but she suspects that Scott got all his charm and generosity from him.

“We should go into the living room,” Alma says, linking her arm through Scott’s. “There’s so many people waiting for you.”

Alma’s not lying. There are so many people in the living room, spilling out into the hall and ending up in the kitchen. It feels like everyone who might be vaguely related to the Moirs must be in the house. She’s separated from him at some point when he’s handed a baby and she’s pulled away to meet an aunt or a cousin. There’s no way she could possibly remember all the names or faces, partly because the Moirs do have a habit of looking like one another, but also because of the sheer number of them.

She doesn’t have any trouble remembering Spencer who streaks through the living room, buck naked again, or perhaps never put on any clothes to begin with.

“Spencer, for fuck’s sake!” one of the women yells. “You have to wear clothes.”

Spencer starts to say something when a look of terror passes across his face. Before anyone can move, and to everyone’s surprise, including Spencer’s, he pees all over the floor. Spencer looks down at the puddle, shrugs and flees.

Everyone seems to hold their breaths and look at Tessa at the same moment. She takes one look at Scott’s horrified expression and laughs so hard, she thinks she might be the next person who pees on the floor.

“I knew she was a good one,” Joe says to Scott.

“The best one,” Scott agrees, and rubs her back as she tries to get her giggles under control. “What the fuck is wrong with Spencer?”

“You’d be the best person to answer that question.” Joe answers, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You did the same thing when you were six.”

This time Tessa laughs so hard that she has to sit down.

“Tessa,” Joe says as she tries to shove herself into a corner. Her head is pounding and she really needs to lay down, but she refuses to tell Scott, who is being used as a jungle gym by three of his nephews. Or maybe one is a nephew and two or cousins? She lost track a long time ago.

“Joe,” she tries to seem bright and cheerful.

“You look like you could use a bit of peace and quiet.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re really quite a terrible liar, anyone ever tell you that?” Joe laughs and she squeezes his arm, surprising both of them. It usually takes her a long time to get comfortable enough with people to touch them, but Joe reminds her so much of Scott that it’s easy.

“Scott, may have mentioned it once or twice.” She has an excellent poker face, since it’s usually frozen in a state of mild irritation, but the second she opens her mouth to lie, it’s abundantly clear she’s not telling the truth. It’s part of the reason why she’s always brutally honest with her skaters, her trying to lie and failing was somehow worse.

“His old bedroom is empty and pretty much preserved from when he was a teenager, if you’d like to go up there.”

“I really would.” For the chance to snoop, as much as for the silence.

“Upstairs, second door on the right. I’ll tell him where you are, if he ever untangles himself from the boys.” Joe gives her a smile and she can feel him watching her as she heads up the stairs.

Stepping into Scott’s room is like stepping into the past, like time just stopped when he moved away. The twin bed with the dark blue bedspread would be much too small for an adult. She assumes the Leaf posters on the walls are of players who have long since retired. There are books on one of the shelves of his book case. Although she’s intrigued by what books might have caught the fancy of a teenaged Scott, she bypasses everything for what can only be described as a shrine to the careers of Scott and Nat.

First she examines the huge collection of medals and trophies, some of them dating back all the way to when they were first competing together. His team silver medal from the Sochi Olympics gets no more importance than a bronze juniors medal from a competition she’s sure doesn’t exist anymore. His latest medals are there too, even the gold from NHK. She’s always wondered what he did with them, she’d never seen them around the house or back at his place, when he still had one. She never asked because she didn’t want him to ask about hers. Her medals, her memories.

She’s examining the pictures of Nat and Scott on the wall, when a small head pokes around the corner of the door she forgot to close.

“We’re not supposed to come in here,” Spencer informs her.

“Grandpa Joe said it was ok,” she answers, placing the photo of fifteen year old Nat and sixteen year old Scott back on the shelf. They were both going through an awkward stage, Nat all arms and legs that had grown too fast and Scott looking about twelve years old and trying to appear manly.

“Grandpa would know,” he says solemnly. “Can I come in too?”

“Are you wearing clothes?”

“Including pants?” he answers after looking down to check.

“Are you wearing underwear?”

He has to check again. “Yes.”

“Then you can come in.”

Spencer eases himself into the room and she’s happy to find he’s almost fully dressed in a t-shirt, underwear, and one sock.

“What exactly do you have against pants?” she asks, and watches as he takes in the room with a look of awe on his face.

“Tessa, have you ever worn pants?” he asks, a strange question on the surface, but doubly so, given she’s wearing pants at that moment.

“Yes, Spencer, I have worn pants.”

“Then I think you have your answer,” he says with a shrug, and then darts across the room to stand beside her. “Can I touch the medals?”

“What would Grandpa say?”

“He’d say no.” Spencer kicks the ground in disappointment. She’s just happy to have an easy out. “How’d you get that thing on your face?”

The question knocks the breath out of her for a moment. It’s been a long time since anyone has asked her, but she doesn’t really mind, there’s no malice in Spencer’s voice, just curiosity.

“You mean my scar?” she asks, just in case she has chocolate on her face.

“Is that what it’s called? Like the bad guy in the Lion King? Oh, now I get it.” Spencer holds up his hand for a high five and she has no choice but to comply. “Did someone knife you?”

She’s not quite sure what to do with Spencer who seems to veer from child to adult to teenager without warning.

“No, no one knifed me,” she answers and he can’t hide his disappointment. “There was an accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“A bad one.” She’s never been interrogated by a small child before. She’s not sure she likes it.  
“Did it hurt?”

“Quite a bit.” 

“Does it come off?” he asks as he examines her face. Usually, the scrutiny would bother her, but with Spencer it’s somehow fine.

“It doesn’t. I’d take it off if it did.” She hands him one of the medals and he looks up at her with awe. She puts a finger to her lips before saying, “Don’t tell Grandpa.”

He takes a moment to really check out the medal before he continues talking, “If I had a scar like that, I wouldn’t take it off. My brother says it makes you look like a badass.”

She should probably chastise him for saying ass, but she laughs instead. “Which one is your brother?”

“Thomas.”

“There’s a Thomas?” She swears she didn’t see that name in the piles of presents she wrapped. She’s never going to be able to keep all the Moirs straight.

“Can I keep this?” Spencer asks pointing at the medal that’s inexplicably around his neck even though it was in his hand a moment before.

“I don’t think so.”

“I figured. Well, see you!” He hands her the medal and then hugs her leg before dashing out of the room. She puts the medal back on the shelf where she found it before heading over to the bed and dropping down onto it. She’s contemplating a nap when Scott comes in.

“Hey,” he says and sits down beside her. “Was Spencer bothering you?”

“Not at all. He reminds me of you.” She takes his hand.

“I’ll have you know,” he says in mock horror, “that I haven’t peed on the floor in front of people since I was six… teen… twenty… two?”

“But you pee on the floor when people aren’t around?”

“Sometimes, I challenge myself to see how far I can stand away from the toilet and still hit the bowl. I’m not always successful,” he says with a shrug.

“Gross, Scott! You better be kidding.” He just laughs and pulls her into a hug. She chooses to believe he’s kidding, or that he at least does a thorough cleaning job afterwards. “Can we go back to the hotel now?”

“Oh, thank god. I wanted to go home an hour ago. It’s so loud here.”

“You think it’s too loud?” She can’t be hearing him correctly.

“I guess I’ve just gotten used to the quiet of us.”

His answer gives her pause. She’d never really thought that she might have changed him as much as he’d changed her.

“I love you,” she whispers and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Me too.” He seems surprised, but then he wouldn’t know she just had an epiphany. “Let’s get out of here.”

Their goodbyes last for at least forty-five minutes and no one will let them leave until they promise that they’ll be back on Christmas morning by 7:30 at the latest. They’re just about to leave when a pantsless and underwearless Spencer streaks across the living room and everyone forgets about them.

“What does that kid have against pants?” she asks after they’re settled in the car.

“Tessa,” he gives her a look. “Have you ever worn pants?”

She giggles about his answer for the rest of the night, but refuses to tell him why.

“It’s not going to be like your house,” she says as they stand in her mother’s driveway and she tries to take deep breaths to slow her pounding heart. It’s not working, because she hasn’t set foot in this house in years, and the idea of doing is completely overwhelming.

“Come here.” He pulls her into a hug and breathes with her. Just holds her and breathes until her heart has stopped pounding and she can take long even breaths without having to think about it.

“How’s it going to be different?” he murmurs into her ear while he’s still holding her.

“Less people. Just Mom and Jordan.”

“What about your brothers?” She knows he wants to ask more, and she’s glad he’s not pushing this time.

“I’m not ready for that yet.” The distance between her and her brothers is one of her biggest regrets. She wants to know them and their families, but she needs to start small. “I’ll see them next time.”

For the first time she’s not lying to anyone, even herself. There will be a next time.

“Better?” he asks as he pulls away, placing a quick kiss on her cheek as he goes.

“Let’s go in.” She takes his hand and pulls him towards the house she grew up in. It looks both familiar and foreign at the same time.

“I wasn’t sure if you were really going to come in or not,” Kate says, opening the door before they have a chance to knock. She must have been watching them from the window.

“I wasn’t sure either.” She’s glad that they had a late sleep in and a relaxing morning. They’d had a room service lunch on their bed half dressed and she’d taken a long bath before they left. The nervous energy vibrating off of Kate is already starting to ramp up her nerves. “But I did it.”

Kate’s only answer is a forced laugh. Her mother looks so much older than the last time she saw her, and Tessa suspects that’s her fault. The front entry of the house has been redone since the last time she was there. Not much of a surprise given that Kate likes to get the house redone every five years or so. It’s very much in the style the old Tessa would have enjoyed. White, clean lines and minimal. Nothing like the colourful, slightly rundown, and always strangely cluttered existence she leads now.

“I’m Scott.” His voice draws her back to reality and it’s only then that she realizes she forgot to introduce them.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Kate answers and shakes his outstretched hand. She knows her mother well enough to know that she sounds anything but happy to meet him.

“Me too,” Scott says. If he’s noticed her mother’s less that warm greeting, he doesn’t let on.

“Is Jordan here?” she asks as Kate leads them towards the living room. It’s oppressively silent in the house and she wonders if it has always been that way. She left home when she was so young that she can’t really remember. Worse, she can’t help but unfavourably compare her house to the Moirs’ which was teeming with chaos and love.

“Not yet. She’s late as usual.”

It’s actually not at all like Jordan to be late, she always airs on the side of early. She wonders if Jordan was purposefully late, so she and Scott wouldn’t be overwhelmed. That sounds like something her sister would do. She’s always been the most generous of the Virtue women.

They all take a seat in the living room. Kate dwarfed by an overly large chair and Scott and Tessa on the very white couch. Scott correctly reads the room, and sits as far away from her as possible. He picks nervously at his slacks, and she can tell he’s worried about dirtying the pristine couch, even though there’s no way he could.

“Can I get you anything to eat or drink? Dinner won’t be for a couple hours.”

“We’re fine. We slept in and had room service for lunch.” She can’t help but compare her mother’s formal invitation to how she was greeted at the Moir’s, where someone, she’s not even sure who, pointed at the kitchen and told her to help herself.

“Oh, are you staying together?” Kate’s mouth pinches into a hard line. Scott looks over at her confused, and she hopes she manages to look the same right back at him. “I thought you were just travelling together. I assumed for convenience.”

She opens and closes her mouth several times, not sure how to start. Surely Jordan must have told her mother, but even if she hadn’t Tessa’s sure she made it clear that she and Scott were a couple. Even so, Kate’s always had a habit of hearing what she wanted to hear.

Her muddled brain finally allows her to put together a sentence. “Maybe I could help you make some tea in the kitchen?” 

“I think that would be an excellent idea.” Kate heads into the kitchen without looking back. Luckily Kate hasn’t given into all her remodelling instinct and the kitchen remains a closed concept. She’s never been more thankful for a door in all her life.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers to Scott as she stands up to follow.

He squeezes her hand and whispers back, “Don’t worry about it.”

She’s not sure what he’s forgiving her for, at this point there’s so much.

“You can’t be serious about this,” Kate says as soon as she walks into the kitchen, waving her hand in the general direction of where she left Scott.

“We live together. And could you please lower your voice?” The idea that Scott might overhear them leaves her sweaty and with an ache in her stomach.

“He’s a child.”

“He’s almost thirty.”

“And you’re forty.” Kate takes her kettle and slams it down on the counter. “People will laugh at you.”

“I love him,” she answers weakly, because the truth hurts. She knows people will never understand what he sees in her and it has nothing to do with their age difference.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kate shoves the kettle back onto it’s base so hard that the vase of flowers next to it teeters a little. Tessa hopes they fall. Smash all over the counter. “How could you possibly keep someone like that interested?”

“Scott isn’t Dad.” She should have known that her mother’s outrage had nothing to do with Tessa and everything to do with Kate. That’s always how it had been.

“This isn’t about me and your father,” Kate yells, actually yells. She’s seen her mother angry, experienced it plenty of times. But for her to yell, that’s a very rare occurrence.

“Fuck Mom, everything is about you and Dad.” They stare at each other in silence for a while. Kate’s face goes from white to red and then back again. Tessa waits it out. She knows she’s supposed to apologize, but she’s not going to. “He’s not Dad.”

“You really think he’s going to stay with you? With all those beautiful women around him, including his partner?”

“Well, this lasted longer than I was expecting, but we’re going to head out now,” she says and walks out of the kitchen without looking back. Scott jumps off the couch as she enters and it takes her a minute to realize that he’s talking to Jordan.

“I met your sister,” he says, his eyes wide with concern.

“Jordan.” She hugs her sister. “We have to leave.”

“I heard. Okay if I come with?” she asks as Kate storms into the living room.

“Have you told him that you can’t have children?” her mother demands. Tessa wishes there were concern or pain in her mother’s eyes, but all she sees is triumph.

“I don’t keep secrets from Scott. There are some gifts for you in the bag under the tree. I’ll speak to you later.” She doesn’t, can’t, look at her mother’s face as she heads to the front door. Scott’s right behind her, his hand pressed reassuringly on her lower back.

He doesn’t say a word until they’re back in the car, driving away from the street she grew up on.

“And you said things would be quiet at your house.”

She’d laugh harder if she didn’t want to cry so badly. Because as much as she hates her mother for saying it, she can’t help but hear the truth in her words.

“Your sister is nice,” he says as he takes off his jacket and drops facedown on to the bed. They’d gone to dinner at a restaurant after everything had blown up with her mother.

“She is.”

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic there, tiger.” He throws an arm over her lap as she sits down next to him. His words are slightly garbled by the pillow he has his face smushed into. If she found the day emotionally draining, he must be exhausted.

“No, I mean it. She is. It’s remarkable she and I turned out even a little functional.”

He rolls over onto his back and motions for her to lay down beside him, kisses her on the tip of her nose before he answers, “Not that it gives her permission to hurt you, but your mom seems really hurt.”

This is why she loves him so much; his boundless compassion never ceases to amaze her.

“Dad leaving knocked her sideways. He was her everything and when he just picked someone else, I don’t think she knew who to be anymore.”

She hadn’t been around much when it happened, she’d already moved away to train with Matthew, an adult with her own problems.

“And the bombing, everything she went through with almost losing me, and then me walking away from her, that didn’t help. I think she’s just had to harden her heart to get through.” She could be talking about her mother, but she could also be talking about herself. Some people have scars on their faces, and some have them inside where no one can see them. “She just never had a Scott to help her find her way again.”

“Well, she doesn’t know it yet, but she does have a Scott to help her.”

She runs her hands through his hair and laughs. If there’s anyone who might be capable of breaking down her mother’s walls, it’s him.

“She didn’t like Matthew either, if it’s any consolation.”

“She didn’t?” He doesn’t bother to hide the surprise in his voice. “I thought everyone loved Matthew.”

“Not my mother, although she disliked the idea of him more than actual him.” Her mother had once described Matthew as the human equivalent of vanilla ice cream. Necessary, tasty, but no one’s first choice. “She thought I needed to find out who I was entirely without him before I could be with him.”

At the time, she hadn’t wanted to hear a word her mother said, but now that she looks back, she’s not sure her mother was wrong. She loved Matthew with her whole heart but she’d always been TessaandMatthew, never just Tessa. She doesn’t know how that would have affected their relationship when the skating was gone. It’s so hard for her to remember the Tessa she was before the bombing that she thinks it’s best not to try.

“Hey, Virtch,” he says through a yawn. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s Christmas Eve.”

“I’m sorry this holiday isn’t working out the way you wanted it to.”

“What are you talking about?” He nudges her to roll on her stomach, starts to massage her shoulders as soon as she does. “I know there’s been a little more drama than was strictly necessary, and a little more…”

“Floor peeing,” she adds, helpfully.

“Yes, any floor peeing is too much floor peeing.” He laughs and finds the spot in her shoulder that seems to be in a permanent knot. “But we’re here together and that’s all I wanted. So as far as I’m concerned, this is the best fucking Christmas ever.”

“I’m glad.”

“But next year, let’s go to Hawaii or something.”

She couldn’t agree more.

“Are we wearing our Christmas jammies to bed?” He says when she comes out of the bathroom wearing hers.

“In my family, we have a tradition of opening one Christmas present on Christmas Eve,” she explains, ignoring his question. “Would you like to open one of your presents?”

He jumps up out of the chair he’d been sitting in and claps his hands. “Yes please.”

“Then you should probably come here and unwrap it.” He walks all the way over to her before with his hands out. She has to put his hands on the top button of her top before he figures out what she meant.

“Oh, I have to unwrap you?” Understanding flashes in his eyes, immediately followed by lust. “This is a really good present.”

He smirks as he takes his time opening one after another, but his expression drastically changes when he realizes that she’s wearing lingerie.

“Is this my present?” he asks and speeds up the process of removing her pyjamas. He takes a step back to admire her and lets out a low groan.

“You seemed to like it the last time I wore something like this. So I thought I’d try it again.” She’d gone all out now that she was feeling more confident in his reaction. And if she was being totally honest, herself. A bustier that she’d had a hell of a time getting into, but worth all the effort if it resulted in the way he was staring at her. Tiny panties that she’s sure served a purpose and garters that hold up black stockings. He seemed especially appreciative of the garters, his fingers sliding under one as soon as he moved.

“I really appreciate any and all efforts made in this direction. In fact please use my credit card for any future transactions.” He put one hand on each of her hips and pulled her flush against him. The joke she was about to make was lost forever as his lips find hers.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

There’s less Moirs in the house on Christmas morning than there were on her first visit, but every couch and chair in the living room holds an adult, while the children and Scott are spread out on the floor. Spencer, who’s thankfully still wearing all his clothes, and two smaller children are sitting on Scott’s back and she’s not sure she’s ever seen him happier.

“This one has Scott’s name on it,” Joe says from his spot near the tree. It’s his job to hand out presents. “It’s from Tessa.”

Scott rolls over, sending children flying, and screaming with joy. 

“You already gave me a present,” he says, raising an eyebrow at her as he takes the present from Joe.

“What did she get you?” one of the nieces calls out.

“Some, uh...” he blushes and one of his brothers snickers. “Just boring adult stuff, you wouldn’t be interested.”

“Like taxes?” Spencer asks.

“Yes, exactly like taxes.” Scott squeezes in beside her in a chair that was really only meant for one person, and whispers, “Can I open this in front of the children?”

She just gives him an unimpressed look in response. He rips the package open in one move and stares at the contents for a moment before laughing in delight.

“You gave me a cheetah!” He holds the stuffed animal up above his head in triumph.

None of the kids look impressed, but Alma squeals, “Oh, Scott. You always wanted one.”

“Let’s see if there’s one here for Tessa,” Joes says. She shakes her head on disbelief. Everyone has already been so generous when she wasn’t expecting anything.

“I’m going to name him Aloysius,” Scott whispers and cuddles his cheetah to his chest.

“This one is from Scott,” Joe says as he places the gift in her hand. It’s definitely from Scott as it’s almost comically wrapped, and it is very distinctly ring sized, a fact that does not go unnoticed by several women in the room.

“Scott,” she manages under her breath. He finally looks up from his cheetah to see the distress on her face and the gift in her hands.

“Dad wasn’t supposed to give you that,” he starts and then notices the panic in her eyes. “It’s a ring, but it’s not that kind of ring.”

Several women in the room look disappointed, Alma looks crushed. Her heartbeat starts to slow down a little. Her hands are shaking enough that she can’t quite hide her reaction, but she manages to get the paper off the gift and open the box. Inside, thankfully there is no engagement ring, just a plain silver band with the word STRENGTH stamped on it.

“It’s beautiful.” She’s never been given a ring by a man before. She’s not quite sure how to react, so she slips it onto the index finger of her left hand and smiles at him. It fits perfectly and somehow that doesn’t surprise her.

“And now one for Spencer,” Joe announces.

“YES!!!” Spencer screams for the entire time it takes him to run around the room. She owes Spencer a huge thank you because his outburst, distracts everyone from looking at her and Scott.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Scott whispers to her.

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“You sure didn’t look like you did when Dad handed you that box.”

“I was taken by surprise.” She slips her right hand in his and lifts her left to admire the ring. “I do love it.”

“It’s not as cool a gift as my cheetah, but I wanted you to have a daily reminder that you’re the strongest person I know. And a daily reminder of me.”

“I don’t need a daily reminder of you. You’re always there.”

They’re temporarily interrupted by Spencer screaming, whipping off his shirt and swinging it over his head in victory over what appears to be a lego set.

“You love that I’m always there.”

“You’re not wrong about that.”

“Tessa, look it’s a baby,” Scott says as he wandered into the kitchen, where she’s helping Alma do the dishes. The baby, an adorable, eight month old girl, with a head full of dark curl and a pink bow, wears a smile of utter contentment on her face as she snuggles into Scott’s arms. Tessa reaches out and tugs on her little snowman slipper covered foot. She isn’t sure if she should try and smile, or if that would frighten the baby. “I can make her laugh!”

Scott makes a ridiculous face at the baby and she giggles, giggles harder every time he changes his expression. Before long both he and the baby are in hysterics.

“What’s her name?” she asks as she hands Alma a plate to dry.

“Hannah,” he says and Hannah coos in response. “Isn’t that the best name for a baby?”

“Scott, you think every name for a baby is perfect.” Alma shakes her head.

“That’s because every name for a baby is perfect for them,” he says and smiles at Hannah and tickles under her chin. “Except that third cousin who named her baby Dominance. That was a poor choice.”

“It truly was,” Alma agrees.

“Scott Moir!” a woman bellows from the other room. “Give me back my baby!”

“I should go. She’s starting to smell bad anyway. You’re starting to smell bad aren’t you, Hannah? Yes, you are.” Hannah giggles in delight as they leave the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you decided to join us this year, Tessa,” Alma ventures after a few minutes of silent dishwashing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my son quite so happy.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I would know, I’ve known him his whole life.” Alma gives her hand a quick pat before taking the spoon Tessa’s offering to her. “Oh, and I just love the matching pjs. Scott said that they were your idea.”

“I just thought it would be fun.” The whole Moir clan had practically exploded with excitement when they’d arrived wearing their matching pjs.

“They make them in baby sizes, so someday your whole family could wear them, you know, in the future.”

“Oh, I…” she starts to explain, but one look at the expression on Alma’s face and she just can’t ruin her happiness.

“I’ve never seen a man who loved babies the way that he does. Even when he was a terrible teen, he would still fawn over them,” Alma says and the more she talks, the worse Tessa’s head spins. “I imagine you two will want to get started as soon as possible.”

It’s the first time any of the Moirs have made a reference to Tessa’s age and it couldn’t be kinder and it couldn’t feel more like a kick to the stomach.

“Anyway, I guess babies will have to wait until he gets you a different ring.” Alma pats her hand again. “Not that I mind about those sorts of things, but Scott’s very traditional.”

She pulls every ounce of courage she has in her body and says, “I don’t think…”

“Alma!” A shout from the living room, interrupts her. “Come help. Spencer’s stuck in the tree again.”

“Good lord, that child!”

Alma’s gone before she can say anything else.

She lets her body sag against the counter.

Her mind is spinning and she can feel her hands starting to shake. She doesn’t know how to fix this. How to make it better. Tears start to fill her eyes, but she refuses to shed them. She cried over this a long time ago.

“Hey, you should come see this. Spencer’s stuck in the tree and he’s naked. Mom says no one is allowed to take pictures,” Scott shouts as he comes into the kitchen.

She turns around determined to talk to him, to make sure they’re on the same page, but he’s holding a baby. This one is tiny, probably barely a month old and she’s never seen anyone look as happy and content to hold a baby as Scott does.

“You have another baby,” are the words that come out of her mouth instead of the ones she intends.

“This is Eli. Isn’t that the most perfect name for a baby?” He beams at her. “Do you want to hold him? He smells like a baby.”

“No, I’m good. He looks like he’s very happy to be with you.” She twists the towel between her hands, just below the counter, so he can’t see.

“I thought he was smiling, but everyone said it was gas. He burped, so I guess it was, but I do think he likes me.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“You ok?” he asks as he looks up from the baby.

“Just a little tired.” She wants to tell him the truth, but she just can’t.

“We can head back to the hotel soon. I could use a nap too.” He comes over to where she’s standing and kisses her, keeping the baby safe between them. “This has been the best Christmas of my life. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” she agrees. It really has been, no matter how bittersweet. Another memory that she knows she’ll cherish for a long time.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to walkinrobe who I miss because the pandemic is making her work too hard and it's sad without my bestie. And to C who is an amazing editor, and friend.
> 
> And especially all of you who are still reading and commenting. You have no idea how much it means to me. The comments especially make me feel connected to a world that seems very lonely right now.
> 
> Take care and stay safe.

Sometimes, you can just look at a skater or a team and know they’re going to win. There’s a confidence in the way they walk. An air that makes people move out of the way and watch them as they pass. 

Nat and Scott walk into the arena in Helsinki and she knows they’ve won the event before they ever stick a toe in the ice. There’s an air of reverence to the way people treat them. The media clamours to film them, talk to them, for a morsel of their time.

It’s not just them; their confidence, their attitude, their uniqueness rubs off on her. Other coaches get out of her way when she walks past. Other skaters stare and fall silent when she enters a room and for once it’s not because of her scars.

Best of all, Nat and Scott have no idea of the effect they’re having, too much in their bubble. Too focused on the task at hand to be aware of the outside world. She knows that’s for the best. The second they recognize they’re unbeatable is the second they’re vulnerable.

“I feel really good,” Scott says as they come off the ice after the short program warm up.

“That’s because I’m fire out there,” Nat says and leans on Tessa’s shoulder to slip her skate guards back on. “So people don’t notice your obvious lack of sexual appeal.”

“Yes, Nat, you’re a gift to us all,” Scott jokes back and pulls her into a hug. Tessa loves it when they’re like this. Loose and free, without a care in a world. She loves their short program, a medley of Prince songs. They’re really the only team who’s nailed the rhythm dance pattern or theme and they look like they’re having more fun than anyone else competing. She and Marie created the program together and she thinks she likes it as much, if not more than the long program she did herself.

“I really am a gift. That’s such a good way of describing me. Do you think you could find a way to include that in our interviews after? ‘Nat is the best gift that I have ever been given.’”

Scott shakes his head at her, but Tessa knows he’ll find a way to say exactly that later. He turns to her with a smile and asks, “Anything you want to go over?”

She admires the way that he seems to be able to shut off any hint of their personal relationship when they’re working. Treating her as his coach and nothing more. She can’t quite do the same, and she always wonders if her concerns for him and her joy in his achievements are what any coach would feel or if they’re unique because she loves him.

“Just go out there and have the most fun you’ve ever had.”

They both look surprised at her answer. Normally she has last minute technical notes, something her keen eye has picked up during the warm up, or something she’d been thinking about since their last practise. But they’re nearly flawless, and the flaws that exist enhance the program, make it beautiful.

“I mean the most fun I ever had involved a lot less clothing and more than one partner, but I hear what you’re saying.” Nat winks and Tessa can feel embarrassment warm her cheeks and then grows even more embarrassed. Shouldn't a forty year old woman be able to hear talk of a threesome without being scandalized?

“It was possibly more than a threesome, knowing Nat,” Scott whispers, reading her mind.

She wanders away from them after that. They need time alone and she doesn’t like to hover. Once upon a time, it made her feel like a third wheel watching them connect before they skated, creating a place where only the other person existed. Now she sees it for what it is, a love that is so rare, that it defies explanation.

“Your team looks really good, Tess.” Mike from Skate Canada slides up beside her and they both pretend that they’re watching the skaters on the ice.

“They put in the work.”

“Oh, definitely. Those two are some of the hardest workers I’ve seen. You and Matthew were a lot like that.” Mike is one of the few who will still talk to her about Matthew, without wincing or whispering. The two men were friends once upon a time, and she suspects that Mike eased the way for her credentials back in the day. “But there’s a lot of us who think they wouldn’t be where they are if they hadn’t come to you.”

She’s about to protest. It’s almost ingrained in her to never take praise, but she refuses to listen to that voice inside her that tells her to be humble and never draw attention to herself. It sounds a lot like Kate’s voice, but also some coaches and competitors along the way.

She settles on a simple thank you and Mike looks pleased with her response .

“There’s a couple of teams we’d like you to take a look at. We think you could do amazing things with them.” It’s the last thing she expected him to say. She just stares at him for a moment. “I know you’re busy, but let's talk after the free.”

She watches him walk away, not sure how to feel. There’s no time to ruminate, as Nat and Scott’s names are called and she immediately heads to the boards. Scott winks at her as they take the ice and she shakes her head in response. As they take their position at centre ice, she holds her breath for a moment, and anticipates the start of the music.

She lives the program as they skate it. Not like Marie, who does almost all the choreography of her teams, as if she’s willing them through the program. Tessa knows every twist and turn of the program, all the traps and all the landmines and in her mind she’s there on the ice with them. A silent, invisible partner.

The program ends and they’re perfect, at least as close to perfect as anyone can be in a sport where perfection is an unachievable dream. Nat throws herself into Tessa’s arms as she comes off the ice, kisses her on the cheek, then slaps her ass. The crowd goes crazy.

Scott’s hug is his standard hug, a competitor hugging his coach and nothing more.

Their score is enormous. They’re so far ahead of the French it’s laughable. She has to fight every instinct in her body not to stick out her tongue at the reprehensible head of the French Fed.

“With a score like that,” Scott says as the three of them head back to the hotel after the press conference, where he did manage to call Nat a gift. “I could fall on my ass and we’d still win.”

They all laugh, but they aren’t laughing the next night.

He doesn’t fall on his ass. He trips coming out of a twizzle and ends up taking a knee. He’s up almost as fast as he went down, spurned, she’s sure, by the loud gasp from the audience. The rest of the program is flawless but she knows he’ll focus on the seconds of oversight than on the beauty of the whole.

Still he’s smiling and joking with Nat as they get off the ice, pulling her into side hugs and kissing her temple. She can feel him tense beside her when they announce the scores. They lose the free skate, but win overall. Nat and Scott are world champions once more. Scott gets a little teary at the announcement and Nat fist bumps and gets the crowd clapping along in excitement.

“I’m just so lucky to have Nat as a partner,” Scott answers, when a reporter asks him about the fall. “She really held me up out there.”

“Nat, what did you say to Scott when he fell?”

“I told him not to be such an attention whore. People are really here to see me, not him,” Nat answers and flips her blonde ponytail. The reporters laugh. If anyone else had said it, they would have sounded vain, but with Nat it’s somehow both the truth and self depreciating.

“Who could keep their eyes off you?” Scott answers, and she knows that the moment will inspire deep analysis, gifs, and fanfiction for months, possibly years to come.

She keeps a close eye on him after the medal ceremony, and on the ride back to the hotel. She wants to hover as he heads to his room, but she knows that won’t help anyone. He’s packing up to move into her room, as he does at every competition once the competing is done. They’re coach and skater only until the medals are awarded. Lovers after.

“I know you’re worried,” he calls from the bedroom, while she’s in the bathroom, getting ready for the celebratory dinner.

“Hmmm.” Her answer is neither a confirmation nor a denial.

“But I’m really ok.” He appears in the mirror behind her, shirt on but unbuttoned, holding a pair of jeans in one hand and dress pants in another. She points to the jeans, before he continues talking. “I thought I wouldn’t be. I told my sponsor to be ready, just in case something went wrong. I had a whole plan on my phone.”

“But you don’t need that?”

“People make mistakes. I made a mistake. Nothing more, nothing less,” he says with a shrug and then turns to head into the bedroom. He’s already pulling on his jeans when she gets there.

“Would you still be ok if you had lost?”

“I think so.” He sits down beside her at the edge of the bed and strokes her knee with his thumb. “It’s not so much about the colour of the medal as it is not letting Nat down. Or you.”

“I’m a tougher critic than Nat.” It’s true. Nat’s already proven she’ll forgive Scott anything. Tessa’s not so sure she possesses the same boundless capacity for absolution. There are moments, words, that still hurt her heart.

“As a coach, yes. And I might let you down, not on purpose, but I might not always win.” He pulls her to him and kisses her forehead.

“Well, I only accept winning teams, so we might have to end our professional relationship.” He laughs at her answer because her other teams haven’t won a damn thing. They’re improving, by leaps and bounds, but nowhere near champions.

“What was Mike talking to you about?”

“Noticed that, did you? You should have been concentrating on the competition.”

“I can be totally focused on the competition and still know exactly where you are and what you’re doing,” he explains. She cocks a skeptical eyebrow in response but she knows exactly what he means. Lately, she can feel his presence, know where he is and how he’s feeling without even looking.

“He wants me to take on a few new teams.”

He gives a congratulatory punch to the shoulder, because he gets how big a deal the request is. “Are you going to?”

“Not this year, not right before the Olympics.” She needs to give all of her energy to her number one team. “But maybe after you two retire.”

“Retire? Me? I’m going for at least two more quads. Sure you’ll have to roll me the rink in a wheel barrel but I’m all in.”

All three of them have already discussed their retirement plans, so she ignores him. “We should get going. Nat will be here soon.”

“Are you going out in your underwear? Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not your usual look.”

“I don’t know what to wear.” She’d felt stifled lately by her usual uniform of black turtlenecks and dress pants, but terrified to try something new.

“Let me help,” he says dramatically and heads over to her suitcase. She thinks about stopping him but decides what he comes up with can’t possibly be worse than what she would have picked, especially because she would have ended up with a turtleneck and dress pants.

He hums as he examines the contents of her suitcase, picking up pieces of clothing and judging them, either putting them on a little pile on her bed or back into her suitcase. She loves how seriously he’s taking his work and is surprised when a giggle escapes her lips.

“I want it to be a surprise.” He shoos her away with a wave of his hand. She hadn’t quite finished reapplying the makeup that had come off during their celebratory shower, so she returns to the bathroom. She can hear him mumbling to himself, while she debates lipstick colours. She has four she prefers but even she has to admit that they’re really just varying shades of a pink that is slightly darker than her actual lips. But way at the bottom of her case, there’s a wine red tube that she bought in a fit of whimsy and has never had the courage to wear. She thinks tonight might be the night.

She puts it to the side, when he calls her name. Before she leaves the bathroom, she vows she’ll wear whatever he picked.

“I didn’t even know you owned jeans,” he says as he holds up the dark skinny jeans that she’d forgotten she’d buried at the bottom of her suitcase.

“Jordan sent them to me.” She’d had them for almost two months and still hadn’t worked up the courage to wear them, and wasn’t sure what had possessed her to throw them into her bag. Jordan was always sending her things in an attempt to push her out of her comfort zone. If she recalls correctly, the wine red lipstick was purchased at her urging.

“I think they’ll make your ass look amazing.” She’s very proud that she’s managed to maintain her skater’s ass even as other things have sagged with age and less training, and she loves that Scott loves her ass. “And I thought this to go with it.”

He reveals a silky emerald green blouse with a mandarin collar that she’d planned to wear under one of her suits, but had chosen a turtleneck instead. It’s sleeveless but doesn’t show off any cleavage which is why she’s surprised he chose it. He’s also a big admirer of her very limited breasts.

“Really?”

“I like the way it feels and it’s your favourite colour.” He smiles and strokes the fabric a little. “I put out one of your blazers too, in case you want to keep your arms covered.”

She appreciates this about him, that while he doesn’t completely understand her insecurities about her body, he respects the way she feels. She’s left a little speechless, so she just takes the clothes and starts to put them on. Spins for him when she’s done. He whistles in appreciation and is about to kiss her when Nat starts banging on the door.

“I’ll be right there,” she explains as he heads to the door. She dashes into the bathroom and grabs the never used lipstick and only looks enough to make sure it’s applied properly, but not long enough to make a judgement.

“Jesus, Nat. Do you think you could have found a smaller dress?” Scott says just as she heads back into the room.

“I mean, not one I can wear in public,” Nat answers and blows her a kiss. Her silvery blue dress does leave very little to the imagination and in fact answers some questions about her nipples that Tessa had never thought to ask. “T, you look smoking! That lipstick colour is fire.”

She just nods and pinks a little in embarrassment. When she looks up, Scott is staring at her, his eyes dark with want.

“How is everyone doing?” Nat says a little too loudly, when no one else speaks. “No urges, I mean non sexual ones that I need to worry about?”

“I’m fine,” Scott laughs and finally drags his eyes away from Tessa’s lips. “No desire to drink at all.”

“Perfect, because I’m planning on getting sloppy drunk and I’m gonna need you two to take care of me so I don’t make any poor decisions. Well, no worse than normal.”

“We’ve got your back, Nat.” Scott says with a laugh.

“Which is made easier, by the fact that we can see every inch of it,” Tessa answers and both Nat and Scott stop dead, stare at her, and then start laughing.

“I am going to have so much fun tonight!” Nat yells and then saunters down the hall.

Scott pulls her to him before she can follow. “I really like that lipstick.”

“Do you?”

“I do and I can think of a whole bunch of places that you can leave it when we get back.” He looks her up and down. “Maybe even before.”

She kisses him, and then pulls away, snagging his bottom lip between her teeth before she releases him.

Seems Nat isn’t the only one up for a good night.

He doesn’t quite believe her when she tells him. Just kind of snickers and buries his head back into the pillow.

“You have to get up now,” she says and pulls the duvet off his body. Normally he’s the first one awake in the morning, and shoving her out of bed so they can get to practise on time. During his precious break between seasons, he sleeps in as late as his body will allow him, and it’s her kicking him out of bed. “We have to be at the airport in an hour.”

“We have to be where? Why? In how long?” His confusion is a combination of sleepiness and actual lack of knowledge.

“At the airport. In an hour,” she answers slowly. “I’m taking you on a surprise vacation.”

She leaves the room so he’ll have to follow her if he wants to ask anymore questions.

He arrives in the kitchen, tugging on a shirt and looking delightfully rumpled and very confused. She hands him a cup of coffee, before he has a chance to talk. He takes a significant sip and sits down at the table where she has breakfast, yogurt, granola, and fruit, ready to go.

“Did you say you’re taking me on a surprise vacation?”

“I did, and we have to leave in a half hour, so you better eat your breakfast and get into the shower or we’re going to be late.” She kisses the top of his head.

“What about… don’t I have… commitments?” She loves watching him try and make sense of the world when he’s just woken up.

“I checked with your coach and she says your schedule is clear for the next few days. Tick tock, Moir”

“I still have to pack.” He looks at his watch and immediately starts eating. The half hour time reminder must have lit a fire under his ass.

“I did that already.” It had been fun, waiting for him to go pick up the take out from the restaurant that doesn’t deliver and never has their order ready, then scrambling to pack while he was gone. She’d managed to hide the suitcases just as he was pulling into the driveway.

“Where are we going?”

“That’s the surprise part of the surprise,” she answers with a wink.

“But how will I know how to dress for the plane?” he asks as he stuffs some fruit in his mouth. She probably should have woken him up earlier, but he always looks so content when he’s sleeping.

“Dress comfortably. That’s all the hints you get.” She’s wearing leggings and a hoodie. She used to be a big believer in dressing up to go on planes, but now she just wants to be comfortable. Plus they have a really long day of travel ahead of them.

“You really are something.” He stops to kiss her on the way to the shower.

“Well, you’re not the only one capable of a grand romantic gesture.”

She gets another kiss for that sentiment.

“Vancouver?” he says when they arrive at their gate at the airport. “I love Vancouver.”

“Too bad, because that’s just our first stop.”

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

He doesn’t kiss her this time, because they’re in public, but she can tell he wants to.

It’s noon by the time they arrive in Vancouver but they still have seven hours of travel to come.

“Hawaii?” he guesses.

“You didn’t bring a passport.” She points out as she leads him out of the airport. There was a time when she required multiple suitcases with multiple outfit changes, now she can travel with just a carry on. Scott’s also a light packer, happy if he has a couple extra shirts and clean underwear. She appreciates the absence of checked luggage because it makes exiting the airport a great deal quicker, and means they might just make their reservation on time. “You can drive.”

She’s glad she pre booked the car and checked in online. They’re running slightly behind schedule but Scott has a lead foot.

“Where?”

“Siri will tell you.”

She had no idea, but it turns out Scott likes boats the way a small child likes boats, starting with his desire to inform her of their whereabouts every fifteen minutes or so.

“T, we’re on a boat.”

“You’ve been on the ferry before.” She manages through chattering teeth, because he insisted that they had to go outside for the ride, even though it’s freezing. She promises herself she won’t complain because it’s his vacation.

“But I’ve never been on a boat with you before.” He gathers into a hug and she lets him even though they’re in public, because there’s no one else stupid enough to be out on deck and he’s an effective shield against the wind. “Maybe we’ll see some whales.”

“If we’re lucky.” She snuggles in closer, thankful that at least he’s stopped running from stern to bow and back again. He has way too much energy and she prefers for him to use it in other ways.

“This is the best trip I’ve ever been on,” he declares after he spots what he insists are whales, but are possibly just rocks.

“We haven’t even gotten to where we’re going yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here, how can anything be better? Hey, that reminds me of something.” It’s hard to keep up with the way his mind bounces around. “We should pose like they do in Titanic. You know, like Leo and Kate. Have you seen Titanic?”

“Titanic came out when I was twenty. Of course I’ve seen it.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow at her, possibly because she’s rejected the idea of every movie he’s ever suggested they go see. But her aversion to the movie theatre has nothing to do with movie theatres and everything to do with his taste in movies.

“Then let’s pose like that. Come on.” He pulls her by the hand and somehow talks her into posing and the only other person on deck into taking their picture. They use hers because his is so out of date, she doesn’t know how it still works.

“See, best vacation ever,” he says, admiring the picture he insisted she text to him.

“I think it might be.”

It’s dark by the time they arrive at their destination. She took over driving about halfway there, hoping he would fall asleep and he did. He’s always had trouble staying awake in moving vehicles. She suspects he’s figured out where they’re going but is keeping up the pretence of surprise for her benefit.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” she whispers and runs her hands through his hair, even though he’s already starting to rouse. “We’re here.”

One eye immediately pops open. “Where is here?”

“Tofino.” The other eye opens and a smile, his special, only for Tessa smile, spreads across his face. “Specifically The Wickaninnish Inn.”

“I’ve never been to Tofino,” he says sitting up fully and taking in the beautiful, rustic hotel in front of him.

“I haven’t either.”

Picking where to take him had been a challenge. She couldn’t stomach the idea of going somewhere tropical. Between memories of the bombing and her desire to remain as clothed as possible, a resort was out of the question. And she’d wanted somewhere that she hadn’t already been with Matthew. Unfortunately, as top level figure skaters, she and Matthew had been to most places in the world for competitions and, as avid travellers, they’d been to most of the ones left.

But she’d never really spent much time on the West Coast and Tofino seemed like the perfect place for a quiet and hopefully romantic getaway.

“This room is…” he says when they get into the aptly named canopy suite, located right on the water, with a spectacular view of the ocean. They can just barely see it in the dying light, but she knows they are in for a spectacular view come morning. The suite is practically an apartment with a sitting area, wet bar, and fireplace. “Damn, T. How much money do you make?”

“I do alright.” Truthfully it’s an indulgence, but one she can afford. She’s spent years saving money instead of spending it, and now that she has more teams, she’s making more money.

“This bed is huge,” he announces as he launches himself on it, stretches out like a starfish. “I’m not going to be able to find you.”

“That would really put a damper on some of the plans I have for this weekend.”

He sits up at this news. Ever since she rediscovered her libido, it’s been in overdrive. It’s been exceptionally helpful to have a boyfriend who’s not yet thirty, and who’s ready and willing to help with her situation.

“On the other hand, I am a problem solver.”

He pulls her down to the bed and they don’t talk much after that.

The next morning is all about indulgence. They both sleep in, although it’s still early in Tofino, it’s nearly eleven according to their body clocks. Room service for breakfast and she neither thinks about nor cares how many calories they’re consuming. It might be his last opportunity to really enjoy food before he has to follow the strict diet plan leading up to the Olympics.

She booked him a massage, while she stayed behind on the room and read. She almost booked a couple’s massage but couldn’t stomach the idea of anyone but Scott touching her scarred skin. Regardless, she’s a little jealous of how boneless and relaxed he looks when he returns.

He pulls her into a hug and kisses her head. He looks half asleep but says, “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.

The beach stretches as far as the eye can see and there’s only a few other brave souls out for a walk, because the weather can only be described as threatening. The feel of the wind whipping her ponytail around her face, occasionally battering Scott, as they walk is thrilling rather than annoying. When they’re about halfway down the beach, she’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to run, run like she did when she was a kid and didn’t have a care in the world. When playing with a hose or eating a popsicle was the greatest pleasure she could imagine. So she runs as fast as her rubber boots and sore legs will let her. 

He catches up to her in no time, wrapping his arms around her waist and sending them both crashing to the ground. She’s laughing as she wiggles her freezing hands under his raincoat and howling as he struggles to escape. He manages to almost get away, when she grabs his foot and he face plants into the sand. For a moment, she’s worried that he might be hurt and angry, but when he looks up at her, his sand covered face shows only joy.

“Oh, it’s on Virtue. I’m going to give you a head start, but you better run.”

She does not take his words lightly, and even though she knows her hip is going to hate her in the morning, she takes off down the beach. It takes him longer to catch up this time, but she suspects that he’s taking it easy on her. Only one of them is in Olympic shape and it hasn’t been her for a very long time.

He doesn’t tackle her this time, just wraps one arm around her, trapping hers at her sides. He smiles, raises one eyebrow, and then tickles her. She supposed she knew on some level how strong he was, she’s seen him lift Nat countless times, but she never had occasion to experience it before. He’d always been exceedingly gentle during sex, careful and measured, but he doesn’t hold back as he holds her arms at her side, immobile. Even though there’s nothing sexual about what he’s doing, it sparks something in her and she gasps.

He immediately stops, but as soon as he realizes that she didn’t gasp in pain, he tightens his grip just a little bit, and then finds her neck with his lips. He sucks just a little harder than normal, and this time, she moans.

“We should go back to the room.” His voice is low and gravelly as he lets go of her arms, but takes one of her hands.

She just nods, doesn’t quite trust her voice. He tugs on her hand and turns to lead her back to the inn. They’ve only taken a few steps when the storm that was threatening unleashes. The wind picks up at the same moment the skies open. She’s experienced some incredible thunderstorms in Ontario and Quebec, but nothing like this rain that seems to invade her clothing and seep into her bones. The rain is so intense that she can barely see, and is glad that Scott is there to lead her to the cottage.

They’re both drenched down to their underwear and shivering by the time they arrive back at their room, and immediately shuck their clothes into a heap at the entrance. He’s back with towels and robes before she’s fully undressed, always quicker at everything than she is. While she towels off her sopping hair, he turns on the fireplace.

“Come here,” he calls from where he’s sitting in a big chair across from the fire. He catches her hand when she gets close and pulls her down into his lap. His hands are on the knot holding her robe together before she has time to think. “I can’t get enough of you. I don’t think I ever will.”

She swallows his words with a kiss; she doesn’t need words right now. 

They’re naked beneath their robes, and both are pushed aside urgently. His hands are rougher on her skin than they have been before as he works his way from her throat to her chest. She leaves red marks where she nips and pinches. Her hands go into his hair and she tugs hard when he takes her nipple into his mouth.

“God, Scott, I need…” She’s so ready for him. All she wants is him inside her, filling her. He just nods and lifts her by her hips before thrusting up into her. She loses her breath at the suddenness but groans in appreciation.

He grips her hips so hard that she knows there will be marks there, little bruises that she asked for, next to the scars she hates. She bites her lip and anchors her hands to his shoulders. Their eyes lock and she nods.

With his first thrust, solid and hard, she makes a noise that starts in her chest and rumbles through her throat. He smiles and moves one hand from her hip to push the piece of hair that’s fallen in front of her face.

“Hang on, baby,” he husks.

And then he starts to thrust in earnest, slapping his hips up into her and back out again, almost on the edge of too much, but just this side of perfect. There’s barely time to breath, certainly no time to think, as he thrusts up into her. She lets all of it go, the pain, the past, and surrenders to feeling, only feeling. She fights the urge to close her eyes as she gets closer. He won’t look away and neither will she.

“Tess,” he hisses. He’s the most amazing shade of pink and she wishes there were a way she could capture this moment so she can go back to it again.

“So close,” she manages, the words hard to push from her mouth which she wishes were occupied with his tongue or any part of him. The last thing she wants is for him to take his hands off her hips, so she moves her hand between them and finds her clit. She’s always been too shy to touch herself in front of him but she wants to come so badly, she throws all of her inhibitions away.

It only takes three hard strokes and she’s gone, biting his shoulder as she comes hard. But she pulls her eyes back to his in time to hold his gaze as he comes too, with a groan that runs through her.

They stay locked together on the chair, breathing hard, his arms around her, her head on his shoulder. Longer than she should, until her hip starts to protest and she starts to feel the aches and pains that go away only during sex.

“Do you want to lay down?” he asks. She suspects his back might be in the same state as her hip.

“Please.” She grabs her robe off the floor and puts it on. His is still behind him on the chair and he puts it on before moving to the bed where he opens his arms for her to join him.

Between the softness of the bed and the warmth of his arms, she’s drowsy after only a few moments of quiet.

“Can I ask you something,” he asks as he strokes her shoulder. There’s something in his voice she’s never heard before. Fear, maybe? Doubt?

“Sure.”

“Do you think you’ll ever change your mind about having children?”

She has her back to him when he asks the question, which she suspects is why he had the courage to ask it in the first place. She turns to face him before she answers, because this is not a conversation that she wants to have without being able to see his face.

“Do you think you’ll ever change your mind?” she shoots back. He sighs at her answer, she can tell a little hurt, but she presses on. “Why does everyone get to think I’ll change my mind, but no one ever thinks you’ll change yours?”

“But you like kids, I’ve seen you with them. You’re always so kind.”

“Just because I don’t hate children, doesn’t mean I’d be a good mother.” She takes his hand as she talks, and she loves that he’s listening, really listening to everything she has to say. “But I’m just barely hanging on, Scott. My anxiety isn’t great even with the meds and I’m in pain all the time.”

“I didn’t…”

She cuts him off because she doesn’t need him to make it better, she needs him to hear what she’s saying. “You called me exhausting once…”

“I would never--”

“While you were drunk, in Japan.”

His protest stops in his throat and she watches as confusion, horror, and heartbreak make a quick trip across his features.

He’s silent for a moment.

“You can’t take anything I say when I’m drunk seriously. Tessa, tell me you didn’t believe that, that you haven’t spent all this time thinking I believed that.” He grips her hand so hard it hurts.

“The things we say when we’re drunk are just the things we don’t give ourselves permission to say when we’re sober. It’s okay.” She runs her free hand down his cheek. “Because I am exhausting. You can think that and still love me.”

“I don’t…” he starts, but god love him, can’t finish, can’t bring himself to lie to her even in a moment like this.

“And you chose to love me, even though I am exhausting and might break at any time. But I won’t put a child through that. I just won’t.” She can’t put herself through it either. Can’t pass on the pain and dysfunction she inherited from her mother, and then added to with Matthew’s death and everything that followed. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

She’s crying by the time she finishes, has never shared with anyone what she just shared with him. It’s like a weight has lifted and crushes her all at the same time.

“So we won’t have kids. That’s fine,” he says, but she can see the hurt that idea of a life without children causes him. She has no doubt he would try for her, and she’s equally sure he would end up resenting her in the end.

“I can’t let you make that decision.”

“Well, it’s not up to you.” He sounds angry for the first time.

“Except, when this ends, I’d like us to still love each other and that won’t happen if I take away something that means that much to you.” She presses a kiss to his lips and he deflates, all his fight gone, and he starts to cry too.

“So what does that mean for us? Are we supposed to break up?” he asks after a long time. Enough time that they’re sitting up in the bed, her back resting on his chest, his fingers threaded through her hair.

“Are you planning to immediately find a woman and impregnate her?”

“T!” He laughs which is what she’d been hoping for.

“I think we get through the Olympics and then we talk.” There’s no point in changing until after the Olympics. No point and it might just hurt his chances.

“Then I’m going to hold on tighter until then,” he says and does just that.


End file.
